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A study of the manifestation of guilt in the work of Kafka and Dostoevsky
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A study of the manifestation of guilt in the work of Kafka and Dostoevsky
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A STUDY OF T H E M ANIFESTATION O F GUILT IN T H E W O K E OF K A F K A A N D D O ST O E V SK Y A T hesis Presented to th e 'Faculty o f the Department o f Comparative L iteratu re U n iversity o f Southern C aliforn ia In P a r tia l F u lfillm en t o f the Requirements fo r the Degree Master o f Arts by Thomas Newman Hubble June 1954 UMI Number: EP43073 All rights reserved INFORMATION TO ALL USERS The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. In the unlikely event that the author did not send a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion. Published by ProQuest LLC (2014). Copyright in the Dissertation held by the Author. Dissertation Publishing UMI EP43073 Microform Edition © ProQuest LLC. All rights reserved. This work is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code ProQuest LLC. 789 East Eisenhower Parkway P.O. Box 1346 Ann Arbor, Ml 4 8 1 0 6 -1 3 4 6 t o This thesis, written by ........................................ under the guidance of hXs...Faculty Committee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by the Council on Graduate Study and Research in partial fullfill- ment of the requirements for the degree of . .Msta.ter.-Qf-Ar.ta....................................... Faculty Com m ittee ■matt (ifeef 3 H t TABU) OF CONTENTS C H A P T E R I . INTRODUCTION. . . . .......................................................... I I . T H E P R O B L E M O F INTERPRETING K AFK A’S W O R K . . . . Kafka’s m od© o f ex p ression ........................................ A Review o f c r it ic a l m aterial on Kafka. . . . Summary and con clu sions . . . . . . .................. I I I . RESPONSIBILITY....................................................................... R esp o n sib ility and commitment in Kafka. . . . U niversal r e s p o n s ib ility in Dostoevsky. . . . Summary and conclusions ............................................ Tbe d u a lity o f p oin ts o f view in Kafka. . . . Motive and in ten t . . . . .. .. . . . .. "The Judgment” ............................................................. The C a stle . .. ... .. .. .. . . . .. ”In the Penal C o lo n y " ................................... . . Juality o f character in Dostoevsky...................... j The E ternal H usband................................................. | A Haw Y o u th .................................................................. Summary and con clu sions . . . . . . .................. Y. T H E R A TIO N A L YERSUS T H E IRRATIONAL IN K A FK A . . The reason o f the in d ivid u al versus the tr a d itio n o f s o c ie ty ................................................. P A G E 1 3 : i i 3 ! i i e i i 20 i 23 23 I 28; 31 32, 32 I 32 33 37 I 45 51 54 63 66 68 68 iii C H A P T E R P A G E The Tower o f Babel.......................... 68 "The Great Wall o f C h in a " .................................... 71 " In vestigation s o f a D o g " .................................... 73 The im p o ssib ility o f fin d in g the tru th . . . . 83 "A Report to an Academy". . ........................... 87 "The Burrow" ......................................................... 88 Hum an so litu d e and awareness. . . . . . . . . 89 "A Hunger A r t i s t " ..................................................... 90 The d esire to be freed from the t r ia l o f the mind. ..................................................... 99 VI f l R E A SO N VERSUS M YSTICISM IN DOSTOEVSKY.................. 102 ' ^ • ‘ Notes from Underground..................................... 103 I ’ ' Crime and Punishment. ............................... - . . 105 * Ife® I d i o t ....................................................................... 115 The L ife o f a Great Sinner................................ . 116 The P o s s e s s e d .............................................................. 11© f The Brothers Karamazov............................................ 122 Summary.............................................................................. 131 S u f f e r in g ........................................................... 133 VII. S U M M A R Y A N D CONCLUSIONS................................................. 135 BIBLIOGRAPHY............................................................................................ 138 C H A PT E R I IN TR O D U CTIO N Many o f the great m asterpieces ( e . £ . , Oedipus Rex, Hamlet. and The Brothers K a m m a are concerned with e sta b lish in g g u ilt , one o f the o ld e st themes in lite r a t u r e .i I G uilt i s a p rin cip a l theme in the work o f Dostoevsky and Kafka, and i s a b a sis fo r , or an e s s e n tia l element in , the other p rin cip al m otifs in th e ir w ritin g . The problem w ill be examined in i t s re la tio n sh ip w ith th ese other m otifs— r e s p o n s ib ility , d u a lity o f p oin ts o f view , d u a lity o f ch aracter, m otive and in te n t, the ra tio n a l versus the i r r a tio n a l, the knowledge o f sin through su ffe r in g , and the i A - • 1 lim its o f reason. The a ttitu d e and approach o f the two w riters to th ese m otifs w ill be evaluated and compared. Because o f the u niversal disagreement about the meaning o f Kafka’s work, h is mode o f exp ression w ill be d iscu ssed , and various in terp re ta tio n s w ill be evaluated. This procedure was unnecessary fo r Dostoevsky. In h is over-w ritten and melodramatic s t y le , QLuite d iffe r e n t from Kafka’s o b jectiv e and m eticulous prose, the author i s con stan tly present. His sin g len ess o f approach prompted him to s a c r ific e a r t is t ic s ty le to an abruptly em otional V p resen tation . A dditional explanation o f recurrent m otifs 2 1 i in liis cr ea tiv e work may be found in Dostoevsky’s cor- ! respondence and in The Diary o f A W riter. j i * t I i < i i I C H A PT E R I I ; I T H E P R O B L E M O F INTERPRETING K A FK A ’S W O R K i . I Before the problems o f g u ilt and re la ted su bjects are examined, Kafka*s mode o f exp ression , which has caused I much disagreement about h is meaning, w ill be d iscu ssed . A cross sec tio n o f the lite r a r y c r itic is m w i ll be reviewed, and various in terp re ta tio n s o f h is work evaluated. I I . K A FK A ’S M O D E OF EXPRESSION i Kafka’s mode o f lite r a r y expression i s one th at par- ! tic u la r ly lends i t s e l f to wide in te r p r e ta tio n . He created a world w ith i t s own structure and mood resem bling th at o f i our dreams, in order to express h is v is io n o f ex isten ce and i I r e a lity . In h is fa b le s , Kafka rep eated ly suggests the ' lim its o f human p ercep tion, the f u t i l i t y o f human know- ; led ge, man’s lo s s o f the knowledge o f sin and the way to j truth and freedom. Kafka used a mythopoeic term inology j I drawn from ordinary l i f e as a symbolic superstructure through which to reaeh th at thread in the textu re o f a c tu a li i experience th at evades the methods o f em pirical exploration.! Kafka could have invoked P lato as precedent fo r h is use o f i < . i myth, fo r Plato used myth to elu cid a te the structure which j he glimpsed beyond experience through evidence found w ithin | i t . Kafka expressed the reason fo r h is use o f th e dream | ! when, in response to a frien d who had referred to "The I i 1 Metamorphosis” as ”a te r r ib le dream, a te r r ib le conception,”; he said : ”The dream rev ea ls the r e a lit y , which conception I la g s behind. That i s the horror o f l if e - - t h e terror o f ! : a r t .”2 I Kafka's heroes liv e in a world con trolled by dream laws and dream lo g le , in which sudden s h if t s in the d irec- i tio n o f action and abrupt and unreasonable evasions o f i ! foregone con clu sions occur co n tin u a lly . The p rotagon ists 1 , are involved in ir r a tio n a l situ a tio n s which th ey attempt to | work out r a tio n a lly , and whose ir r a tio n a lity and horror jth ey take fo r granted. The fear and an xiety th at ob sesses :the heroes i s dream an xiety; th ey lo se th e ir way w hile wandering down en d less corrid ors, are unable to open doors, 1 ! are too la te fo r important engagements, and are persecuted j I and accused unreasonably without hope o f o b jectiv e in te r ven tion or aid . The perception o f the extern al world i s the perception o f dreams, where sm all d e ta ils are seen w ith i utmost c la r it y and t r i v i a l m atters suddenly assume major 1 E liseo V ivas, ”Kafka*s D istorted Mask," Kenyon Review. X (Winter, 1948), 63-64. 2 Gustav Janouch, Conversations w ith Kafka, .tran s. Goronwy Rees (London, 1953), p. 35. importance. The heroes become h o p e lessly enmeshed in a web o f t r iv ia l and casual in cid en ts to which th ey must bring a l l o f th e ir en ergies to bear in the e ffo r t to ex tra ct them selves. The a ccid en ta l assumes an importance o f gian t proportions, and the Kafka hero must be resp on sib le and su ffer even i f he gu esses wrongly in a contingent s it u atio n . The d isto r tio n s o f time and space are those o f i 1 dreams. The protagonist may begin a short walk in the i ■ j ea r ly morning, on ly to d iscover th at the road has become an I | en d less journey, and th at he has lo s t h is way, as darkness i suddenly f a l l s . ! The t a le s are f i l l e d w ith symbolic a c tio n s. The j p h ysical p e c u lia r itie s o f a character, th e b u ild , the | stan ce, and the p o sitio n o f the fig u r e , assume the symbolic ! importance o f power and meaning th at they do in dream l i f e and on the th e a tr ic a l sta g e. Kafka employed an extrem ely o b jectiv e and m etieulous prose s ty le and a realism o f d e ta il to express h is p oetic myths. His language, a very d if f ic u lt one to appreciate from tr a n sla tio n , i s clea r and p rosaic. This c la s s ic / s t y le , in which the author seems e n tir e ly absent, tends to heighten the symbolic value o f the dream -like t a le s . Whether the reader i s projected in to the nightmare world from the opening li n e ,/a s in "The Metamorphosis," or whether the fa n ta stic i s gradually introduced, as in "The Judgment," the o b jectiv e s ty le perm its the reader to sus pend judgment fo r the duration o f the reading and to accept a t o t a l involvement in Kafka*s world. Kafka's d ia r ie s , le t t e r s , jo u r n a listic w ritin g , and reported con versation s, which are f i l l e d with evocative symbols th at have the real-u n real a ir o f one o f h is com p le te t a le s , r e fle c t a mind th at co n tin u a lly thought, f e l t , and expressed i t s e l f in symbol. This w ritin g i s evidence i o f the extrem ely fresh v isio n th at perm itted Kafka to see I th in g s in new r e la tio n sh ip s. He tra n sla ted th is v isio n in to symbols expressing new or forgotten sig n ific a n c e . A s lig h t gestu re or ordinary event was tran sla ted in to a symbol charged w ith many la y ers o f meaning, which had the e f f e c t o f reproducing or evoking echoes o f half-remembered and unformed id eas and em otions. In th e f ic t io n a l w ritin g , th ese symbols were transformed from the merely d escrip tiv e and given action and movement. I I . A R E V IE W O F CRITICAL M A TER IA L O H K A F K A The foremost d if f ic u lt y th a t fa ces the c r it ic o f Kafka's work i s the problem o f reading through h is p oetic myths h is conception o f ex isten ce and r e a lit y . The 7 ! I divergence o f opinion regarding th e b asic meaning o f j Kafka * s t a le s has con stan tly widened in the th ir t y years j a fte r h is death, as h is audience has grown and the mass o f :c r it ic a l m aterial on h is work has in creased . In the in tr o - ' i duotion to a c o lle c tio n o f Kafka c r itic is m , Angel F lores j observed th at i t was not d if f ic u lt to avoid r e p e titio n in th e s e le c tio n o f Kafka c r itic is m . F lores wrote: t Svery man who w rites on Kafka somehow immediately be comes an in d iv id u a l . . .n e a r l y everyone who reads j Kafka, not to mention many who d o n 't, seems to have not ; the s lig h t e s t doubt th a t he understands him p e r fe c tly , ' and moreover th at he i s the only one who d o e s.3 i The consequences o f the lite r a r y turm oil th at en veloped Kafka's work, wrote Charles N eider, were th at there e x iste d ! . . . a Kafka probleft more than twenty years a fte r h is I death, w ith l i t t l e agreement regarding h is b asic mean- i in g , and th at he i s being d isto rte d fo r various ends without c le a r regard fo r h is inherent v a lu e .4 , i i While some c r it ic s a ttrib u ted th e varied in terp reta tio n s to the h igh ly gen eralized nature o f symbol, implying th a t a l l were v a lid , oth ers blamed the tendency o f th e reader to approach the symbolic s to r ie s w ith preconceived j p h ilosop h ical con stru ctio n s. s Angel F lo res, e d ., The Kafka Problem (New York, 1946), p. lx . 4 Charles Neider, "The Cabalists,** The Kafka Prob lem . p. 406. 8 1 John U r z id il, who knew Kafka fo r many years, haring | grown up in h is neighborhood, conversed w ith him frequent- 1 l y , and devoted much time to Kafka’s w ritin g , did not con sid er th ese advantages s u ffic ie n t fo r a f u l l perception o f h is work. He f e l t th at h is in terp re ta tio n o f Kafka, " lik e i I |any oth er, c o n stitu te s but a one-sided in te lle c t u a l ex p eri- ' iment." He solved the dilemma o f choosing which in terp reta tio n was correct by suggesting th at i 1 Kafka’s greatness may be seen in the very fa c t th at i t I 1 l i e s w ithin the power o f any reader to attempt and to ; ' achieve h is own deciphering o f Kafka. Therefore, i t does not make much sense to p lay o f f one in terp reta tio n ■ | again st the oth er, fo r a l l o f them may be r ig h t .5 | Albert Gamus suggested th at Kafka’s s to r ie s required j con tin ual re-reading from d iffe r e n t p oin ts o f view in order |to understand them, in d ica tin g th a t sometimes there were double p o s s ib ilit ie s o f in te r p r e ta tio n . He warned: 1 But i t would be wrong to want to in terp ret everything , in d e ta il in Kafka. A symbol i s always in the realm o f ; the gen era l, and, however exact i t s tr a n sla tio n , an I a r t is t can only resto re movement to i t : there i s no j word-for-word correspondence. B esid es, nothing i s more j d if f ic u lt to understand than a symbolic work. A symbol j always goes beyond him who would use i t and makes him ! say in fa c t more them he i s conscious o f exp ressin g. < In t h is re sp e ct, the su rest means o f layin g hold o f i t j i s not to provoke i t , to take up the work in no de- j lib e r a te s p ir it , and not to look fo r i t s secret cur- * r e n ts. For Kafka, in p a rticu la r, i t i s f a ir to consent 5 John U r z id il, " R ecollection s," The Kafka Problem. p. 20. to h is game, to approach the drama by i t s appearance and the novel by I t s form.® A fter th ese pronouncements, Camus proceeded to tr e a t Kafka | su b je c tiv e ly as a forerunner of h is own philosophy ©f the ! absurd. I » A basic c o n flic t arose, in the arguments over the meaning o f Kafka’s work, between the c r it ic s who considered him to be concerned prim arily (or s o le ly ) w ith r e lig io u s problems, u su a lly the problem o f reco n cilin g an in f in it e ; Cod w ith f i n i t e man, and those who suggested th at he was : concerned w ith other o n to lo g ic a l problems in h is w ritin g . I In an evaluation o f a cross sectio n o f Kafka c r i tic ism , Neider grouped Kafka's c r it ic s in to two main sehools: the "mystical" and th e " n a tu r a listic ." The world wide r e lig io u s r e v iv a l o f recent decades was la r g e ly re sp onsible fo r the m ystical in terp reta tio n s o f Kafka, wrote N eider, c itin g Mar Brod and Edwin Muir as lead ers o f the m ystical sch ool. Neider f e l t th at the m ystics had come out b est under the turbulent con d ition s o f the Kafka oontro- jversy, not because o f any superior lo g ic , but because they "had fought the b a ttle on th e ir own ground." They had la id down the r u le s o f the game, "with th e ir 'in s id e ' knowledge 6 Albert Camus, "Hope and Absurdity," tr a n s. William B arrett, The Kafka Problem, p. 251. 10 ' as divulged by Kafka’s in tim ates . . . th e ir exegeses in terms o f a b so lu tes, d iv in e, o r ig in a l sin and a l l the r e st o f the m ystical baggage.” The n a tu r a lis ts denied the j a ssertio n o f the m ystics that Kafka was s o le ly concerned ! 1 with the incommensurability between man and God, and sug- j gested other relevan t and illu m in a tin g m a tter.7 i Neider acknowledged th at both the n a tu r a list and m ystical in terp re ta tio n s o f Kafka were le g itim a te ; the j n a tu r a list **on the b a sis o f the absence o f e x p lic it r e fe r - ! ;ences to supernatural b e lie f s and m o tifs in Kafka, " and the i m ystics ”on the b a sis o f biographical data r e la tin g to ! 8 I Kafka* s preoccupation w ith m ystical d o ctrin e.* * i In h is examination o f Kafka’s work, Neider concen tra ted on one aspect o f the problem, , Kafka’s b asic theme—h is c r it ic a l a n a ly sis o f cabalism , defined lo o s e ly as any so c ia l tr a d itio n w ith the force no le s s than that o f folkway which has lo s t i t s meaning or which i s harmful to the m ajority and which r e s ts on the ir r a tio n a l rather than on rea so n .9 Each major book o f Kafka’ s published in E nglish con tained m aterial w ritten by Max Brod (the lite r a r y executor and biographer o f Kafka), or by Edwin Muir (the tra n sla to r 7 N eider, ©£. c i t . , pp. 402-403. 8 Ib id . , p. 403. 9 Ib id . . p. 416. l i ; i o f most o f Kafka*s work in to E n g lish ), which, as Neider i pointed ou t, prejudiced the reader in favor o f the m ystical J point o f v iew .10 Muir, in an introductory note to The JC astle, described The T rial and The G astle as "metaphysical • I i jor th e o lo g ic a l n ov els," th e ir su b ject m atter being human ; l i f e as i t i s touched by "divine law and d ivin e grace." He considered The C a stle , lik e The Pilgrim *s P rogress, to be "a r e lig io u s a lleg o ry ; the d esire o f the hero in both cases to work out h is sa lv a tio n ." 1^ - Brod, in n otes to The C a stle.^ stre ssed the incom m ensurability o f ea rth ly and r e lig io u s aims and man*s h e lp le ssn e ss before God as K afka's main them es.12 Lienhard Bergel questioned Brod*s o b je c tiv ity in dealing w ith Kafka, suggesting th at Brod*s Jewish n a tio n a l- ■ |ism caused him to conceive a p ictu re o f Kafka which was not | ; i 'f u lly v a lid . Brod seemed too anxious to s tr e s s the | : i "healthy" sid e o f h is fr ie n d 's l i f e and w r itin g s. Brod’s , in flu en ce could be seen in the work o f Herbert Tauber, 13 I \ 10 Ib id . . p. 405. | 11 Edwin Muir, "Introductory Note," The C a stle . by Franz Kafka, 2nd American ed. (New York, 1947}, pp. i i - i i i . 12 Max Brod, "Additional Note," The C a stle , by Franz Kafka, 2nd American ed. (New York, 1947), pp. 329-340. Herbert Tauber, Franz Kafka, elne Deutung sein er Werke (Zurich-New York, 1941). who, in the first attempt at a complete interpretation of I Kafka * s work, was la r g e ly dependent on him. Tauber saw in j i Kafka1s works an analogy to Kierkegaard’s "theology o f j 'r e v e la tio n ." 14 • ! ! Kafka should not be read as i f he were a metaphy- | sic ia n who happened to express h im self in narrative rather than in system atic form, wrote B ergel. He considered i t to be extrem ely questionable whether Kafka had a "message," |and i f s o , whether i t was one o f such a narrow scope as j Brod had in d ic a te d .1® ! S lis e o V ivas, a lso questioning Brod’s o b je c tiv ity , was o f the opinion th at the biographical data on Kafka was inadequate because Brod, h is c h ie f biographer, . . . in terp rets Kafka in h is own terms and seems in capable o f d istin g u ish in g h is own personal in te r e s t in h is g ifte d frien d and h is in te r e s t in the o b jectiv e j meaning o f h is fr ie n d ’s fa b le s .16 | i The in flu en ce o f th e m ystical in terp reta tio n s o f i Kafka, popularized in part by h is publisher and tr a n sla to r , could be seen in the predominance o f r e lig io u s in terp reta tio n s , which e ith e r stressed the m ystical point o f view, or j ^ Lienhard B ergel, "Max Brod and Herbert Tauber," The Kafka Problem, pp. 391-396. 15 Ib id . . p. 396. 1 3 1 i e n tir e ly n eglected any eth er p o s s ib ilit y o f in te r p r e ta tio n ,j th at appeared in the su p e r fic ia l and general review s o f 1 Kafka’s work in p e r io d ic a ls, and in the b r ie f story analyses o f lite r a r y an th o lo g ies. H. Steinhauer, fo r example, in a b r ie f a n a ly sis o f "A Hunger A rtist,*1 wrote ; i th at Kafka d ealt a lle g o r ic a lly w ith the r e lig io u s m ysteries i o f grace, sa lv a tio n , d ivine judgment, and human ignorance | i o f the ways o f God. He said th at Kafka, "like a l l r e li - 1 l gious seekers o f the tw en tieth century," was a victim o f j | th at cleavage in p erso n a lity which was the mark o f our age, : ; the in cessan t wavering between p rim itive r e lig io u s p ie ty 1 7 J and complex, s c e p tic a l, in te lle c tu a lis m . Three other examples o f c r it ic a l opinion from the m ystical school were those o f John K elly , Daniel-Rops, and > R. H. Thomas. K elly considered The T ria l to be an a lleg o ry | ■ o f man*s r e la tio n s w ith God in terms o f a C a lv in istic th e o lo g y .18 The "lesson which Kafka teaches in t h is a l l s - gory," wrote K elly , i s the f u t i l i t y o f human endeavor to remove "primordial * G uilt,*" and to show th at man*s quest ^ H. Steinhauer, e d ., Die Deutsche N ovelle (New York, 1936), pp. 190-191. 18 John K elly , "The T rial and the Theology o f C r is is ," The Kafka Problem, p. 153. 1 4: 19 fo r God i s p o in tle s s. To D aniel-Bops, a French C atholic w r ite r , the two ! fundamental themes found throughout Kafka's work were the concern w ith "a suprahumaa ju s tic e , s t r i c t l y incompre h en sib le, even absurd, that condemns a human being to think o f h im self as always . . . in d icted though free" ; and the ce rta in ty o f th e f u t i l i t y o f a l l human e ffo r t; an e n tir e ly I unacceptable s ta te which was, n on eth eless, com pletely I 20 , accepted. For Daniel-Bops, "Kafka's world bears w itness to th at 'wretchedness o f man without God* or rather *with- j out the p o s s ib ilit y o f Grace.* i ! Thomas evaluated Kafka in lig h t o f the German E xp ression ist movement o f the f i r s t part o f the tw en tieth ! i century. "Kafka’s work mirrors the r e lig io u s id eas o f I Expressionism ," wrote Thomas. "The s p ir itu a l longing o f j i the E x p ressio n ists, the r e c o n c ilia tio n o f the F in ite and ; the I n f in it e , i s the su bject o f h is n ov els." The T r ia l. j The C a stle . and Amerika. were "the sym bolical expression o f | i Kafka's r e lig io u s view s; th e ir subject i s the vain search I 19 Ib id . . p. 160. 20 B aniel-B ops, "The C astle o f D espair," tra n s. Muriel K it t le , The Kafka Problem, p. 186. 21 Ib id . . p. 191. fo r Divine Graee."22 As soon as biographical inform ation on Kafka became \ 25 a v a ila b le , p a r tic u la r ly the "Letter to M y Father," numerous p sych oanalytical in v e stig a tio n s o f Kafka and h is w ritin g appeared. In a hundred-page l e t t e r to h is fa th e r , Kafka had analysed h is lif e lo n g fear o f h is tyran n ical "Father-God." "M y w ritin g was about you," wrote Kafka in j I the l e t t e r , "in i t I only poured out the g r ie f I could not j ■ 2 4 ' sigh a t your b r e a s t. A t one tim e, he said in the ; | l e t t e r , he had thought o f c o lle c tin g a l l o f h is w ritin g gR ; under the t i t l e The Attempt to Escape from Father. ; Frederick J . Hoffman examined Kafka's w ritin g from the j 2 6 ! ! point o f view o f an "escape from fa th er” ; and Klaus Mann , suggested th at Kafka's r e lig io u s pathos, h is humble fea r of; God, was the productive "sublimation" o f an obvious "father| , 1 j 22 E. Hinton Thomas and Richard Samuel, Expression- ( ism in German L ife . L iterature and the Theatre {1 9 l6 ~ l9 2 i) [Cambridge, England, 1939), p. 139; o f. k.H. Thomas, "Franz Kafka and the R eligiou s Aspects o f Expressionism ," German L ife and L e tte r s. I I [October, 1937), 42-49. 23 Franz Kafka, "Extracts from L etter to M y Father," ed. Max Brod, tr a n s. Sophie Frombaum, A Franz Kafka M iscel lan y. ed. Dorothy S. Norman, 2nd ed. (Hew York, 1940). j 24 C ited by Frederick J. Hoffman, "Escape from ! Father," The Kafka Problem, p. 214. 1 25 Gited by Hoffman, ib id . . pp. 215-216. 26 Ib id . 1 6 27 I com plex." I E lise o V ivas, in "Kafka*s D istorted Mask, ” described j what he thought to be the b asic eauses o f the misunderstand-! in gs o f Kafka th at developed from the p sych oan alytic, so cio lo g ic a l, a lle g o r ic a l, and p h ilosop h ical in terp reta tio n s* The psychoanalytic and s o c io lo g ic a l c r it ie s found the mean- |in g o f Kafka by applying to h is work th eo ries devised prior , i to reading, in stead o f fin din g i t by reading the o b je c tiv e , i public content o f the work. Other c r i t i e s , observed V ivas, ! I seeming to assume th at the "key" to Kafka’s work was to be 1 found not w ith in i t , but beyond i t , found th at key f,in some : ready-made p h ilosop h ical conception o f the world, u su a lly Kierkegaard, as i f a l l the a r t is t had to do was to dress up : O Q in a dramatic costume a p hilosophic sk eleton ." Any j attempt to fin d the meaning o f Kafka’s work beyond the ' fa b le s them selves would be an assumption th at th e meaning ! i could be b e tte r expressed in other terms than those which i Kafka h im self used. This would be due to a m isconception o f the cr ea tiv e p rocess. Kafka’s meaning . . . i s something net to be b etter sta ted a b str a c tly in terms o f id eas and concepts, to be found beyond the Klaus Mann, "P reface,” Amerlka. by Franz Kafka (M ew York, 1946), p. v . 23 V ivas, op. c i t . . p. 60. fa b le , but w ithin i t , at the dramatic l e v e l , in the in te r r e la tio n sh ip s thus revealed to e x is t among the characters and the u n iv e rse.29 A fter th ese words o f warning, Vivas proceeded to present h is own su b jectiv e in terp reta tio n o f the meaning o f I Kafka, which he sta ted a b stra ctly in "tarns o f id eas and 1 i 1 ! con cepts." Claude-Edmonde Magny, in a most p ersp icaciou s and perspicuous study o f Kafka, a lso expressed d is s a tis fa c tio n I w ith the attem pts to exp lain the meaning o f Kafka w ith j i ! ; ab stract th e o r ie s and p h ilosop h ical co n stru ctio n s. She . wrote: f . . . W © ought not to do what Kafka h im self always refrain ed from doing: provide d ia le c tic a l con stru ctions fo r the unfolding o f events which should be taken as a re a l account. Otherwise, Kafka i s quickly converted in to a kind o f fru stra ted philosopher who needs to be explained to h im self and to others fo r lack o f su f- j f ic ie n t power o f a n a ly sis and a b stra ctio n . That would | ; imply a gratu itou s in s u lt: Kafka chose ex a c tly the mode o f expression th at su ited him. To deprive h is ; n arrative o f the ten se r e a lit y which i s i t s great q u a lity i s to transform p oetic myth in to ab stract a l l e gory. Nothing could be more opposed to the s p ir it o f Kafka and to h is conception o f e x is te n c e .30 One could discover a p o ste r io r i a p h ilo so p h ica l s ig - ] n ifie a n e e , she sa id , but i t was not primary and resu lted j Loo, c i t . 30 Claude-Edmond© Magny, "The O bjective D epiction o f Absurdity." tra n s. Angel P lo res. The Kafka Problem, d p . 76- 77. ~ 18] 31 i more or le s s a r b itr a r ily . j i Magny considered Kafka to be one o f th e few modern j w riters who had the power to forge myths capable o f rousing ! in the reader the v io le n t emotions which those o f th e ! o j ancient r e lig io n s arouse. She f e l t that i t was p o ssib le to j ta lk in d e fin ite ly about one o f h is t a le s without wringing j i i t dry, almost as one could ta lk about some person or r e a l j e v e n t.32 I Kafka did not go in search o f God to exp lain the horror o f the world, as did Kierkegaard in Fear and Trembling.33 according to which there i s no common measur ing s tic k between God's ju s tic e and man's ju s tic e . Magny observed th a t there would be no shock to the understanding j in the t a le s o f Kafka i f he were a philosopher. I f in stea d , i o f t e llin g the sto ry o f "The Judgment," he had said simply: J . . . "The understanding o f God i s incommensurable with our own," we would b eliev e ou rselves f a llin g again in to one o f those tru th s made t r i t e by C h r istia n ity , such j as "The designs o f Providence are in scru ta b le," and we would cease to pay him any a tte n tio n s .34 To depend upon Kierkegaard for commentary i s to deaden the 31 Ib id . . p. 77, n. 1. 32 Ib id . . p. 75. 33 Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling: a D ia lec t ic a l L y ric. tran s. Walter Lowrie TFrinceton, H. J . ,1 9 4 1 ) . 34 Magny, o£. e i t . , p. 79. 191 i impact o f Kafka and to tr y t© escape the b r u ta lity o f the i i rea l by exp lainin g i t away. The world, fo r Kafka, was 1 turm oil and ir r a tio n a lity ; i t s essen ce, th erefo re, on ly a fa n ta s tic ta le could exp ress. To derive from h is work a , i i 1 philosophy was to render i t too ra tio n a l and, consequently,! 35 to f a l s i f y i t . Kafka accomplished a c a th a r sis by jerking v-' open the read er’s eyes and flin g in g to the earth the j j screens o f philosophy and id eas th at we Interpose between t ou rselves and r e a lit y . Philosophy, lik e conventional | j r e lig io n , tends to be no more than a means o f b e tte r en- j i ! during the world, and o f cushioning what in r e a lit y i s ; ■ in to le r a b le . Instead o f presenting a philosophy, Kafka ' i hurled the unacceptable before the reader’s eyes and ob lig e d him to look at i t . His nightmares communicated a : so rt o f primary sen sation and revealed tru th s beyond the i , 1 read er's lo g ic a l grasp that could be revealed in no other ' way. Kafka, by means o f a minute realism th at made the reader accept the improbable happenings p resented, and by the perception and exp ression o f meanings found in the most j commonplace even ts, showed the reader "how fr a g ile i s the cru st o f c iv iliz a t io n and reason which separates us from 35 ifria . , p. 36 Ib id . . p. 80. 80 j the a tro cio u s, from the barbarous, from the unthinkable.*3 7 I I I I . S U M M A R Y A M D C O N C LU SIO H S - | i The wide divergence o f opinion over Kafka*s meaning r esu lted from the nature o f h is mode o f expression and the , breadth o f the problems w ith which he was concerned. The nature o f symbol and p oetic myth make them subject to broad , ! i i in te r p r e ta tio n . A symbol i s always in the realm o f the I \ gen eral, as Camus observed, and goes beyond him who would { i use i t . Kafka d ealt w ith the la r g e st problems o f existence;! |he explored th e b a sis o f r e a lit y and o f r a tio n a lity , o f \ human r e s p o n s ib ility and consequential g u ilt . I t was found th at even th ose c r it ic s ( e .g ., Vivas and Magny) who condemned the approach used by other in v estig a to rs* o f applying to Kafka’s work th e o r ie s devised i p rior to reading i t , were g u ilt y , to a le s s e r degree, o f the same procedure. Even in the attempt to fin d the mean ing o f Kafka’s s to r ie s at the dramatic l e v e l, a certain degree o f d isto r tio n was imposed on the id ea s. In order to evaluate and d iscu ss them, th ey had to be taken out o f con te x t , n e c e ssita tin g an i n i t i a l d isto r tio n . Them, because i o f the *u n iversal” character o f symbol and p o etic myth, and j 37 I b id ., p. 95. the nature o f the collab oration e x is tin g between the w riter ! I o f p o etic myths and the reader, the la t t e r had to bring to the symbolic ta le h is own exp erience, knowledge, and pro- , i 1 conceived philosophy* The more symbolic the mode o f ex- | ; ' I p ression and ab stract the problems d ea lt w ith , the more j d iverse are the in te r p r e ta tio n s. This was the b asic cause ! o f the d iverse in terp re ta tio n s o f Kafka's w ritin g , j As to the question o f Kafka's concern w ith the r e lig io u s m ysteries o f grace, sa lv a tio n , d ivin e judgment, and human ignorance o f the ways o f God, i t i s doubted th at he j 1 was w ritin g " relig io u s a lle g o r ie s ," or was concerned w ith J th eo lo g ica l problems in th e narrow sense in d icated by the "mystical" c r it ic s . The dangers o f attem pting to narrow I 1 Kafka's meaning to th e realm o f a sin g le philosophy or ith eology, u su a lly the c r i t i c ’s own, were pointed out above, j I < ; The o n to lo g ica l questions w ith which Kafka was involved | I I form erly belonged to the province o f th eology. From t h is coincidence derived much o f th e erroneous subordination o f Kafka to r e lig io u s determ inants. V ietta suggested th at i t would be b etter to approach Kafka's o n to lo g ica l p o sitio n d ir e c tly as a phenomenon, in stead o f speaking o f "man's being in the wrong before God."®8 _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ j Egon V ietta , "The Fundamental R evolution," tra n s. j Lienhard Bergel and F. Wood, The Kafka Problem, p. 540. i I 82 Kafka’s d ia r ie s ,39 co n v ersa tio n s,40 and biography,4 1 ! are o f some a ssista n ce in understanding recurrent m otifs that appear in h is s to r ie s . There i s a q u estion , however, 1 i as to the o b je c tiv ity o f the biographical inform ation. The 42 i L etters to Milena are f i l l e d w ith examples o f recurrent : symbols th at appear in the s to r ie s and in d ica tio n s o f the j problems w ith which Kafka was concerned, but sin ee on ly one | h a lf o f the conversation on a theme i s given , o ften the reader must guess at the s p e c ific su bject th at Kafka i s ! i ' d iscu ssin g w ith the correspondent. 39 Franz Kafka, The D iaries o f Franz Kafka, 1910- 1915. ed. Max Brod, tra n s. Joseph Kresh (New York, 1948), 1 YoT7 I; The D iaries o f Franz Kafka. 1914- 1925. ed. Max 1 Brod, tra n s. Martin Greenberg and Hanna Arendt (Hew York, j 1949), Vol. I I . I i j 40 Gustav Jan©uch, Conversations w ith Kafka. tra n s. j Goronwy Rees (London, 195377 ! ! 41 Max Brod. Franz Kafka. A Biography, tr a n s. G. Humphreys Roberts (Hew York, 1947T. 42 Franz Kafka, L etters to M ilena, ed. W illi Haas, j tra n s. Tania and James S tem (London, 1955). C H A P T E R I I I RESPONSIBILITY | I j I . RESPONSIBILITY A N D C O M M IT M E N T IN K A F K A 1 I i | The world o f Kafka1s s to r ie s was based on turm oil and the ir r a tio n a l. E xistence was w ithout laws or r u le s. i I A day might bring fo rth the most unexpected ev en t, as i t j did, for example, in the sto ry ”Tbe M etamorphosis,” in i i which th e commercial tr a v e le r awoke to d iscover th at he had been transformed in to a large in se e t; or as i t did to the bank o f f i c i a l in The T r ia l. who woke up one morning to d is- Jcover that he had been arrested fo r no apparent reason. |Such a conception o f the world, in which the h orrib le and unexpected can break in to l i f e at any moment, in d ic ts as vain most o f the conventional conceptions o f m orality, such ; i as the idea o f r e s p o n s ib ility . As Magny observed, the con- ; ven tion al conception o f r e s p o n s ib ility , as defined by law j j or common sense ( "One i s on ly respon sible fo r what he has i ; ' done and done w ith f u l l knowledge and con sen t, d elib e r a te ly ”) i s an ab solu tion pronounced by s o c ie ty p rotectin g I ! I man from the fe e lin g o f unconditional g u ilt th at i s in the j i ____________________________________________________________________________________________ i 1 Glaude-ldmonde Magny, "The O bjective D epiction o f Absurdity," tra n s. Angel F lores, The Kafka Problem, ed. Angel Flores (New York, 1946), p. 80. 241 depths o f the human consoience (as expressed in the Oedipus and O restes myths, fo r exam ple), the con tin ual conscious ness o f which would make l i f e unbearable.** i i ! I | Kafka’s heroes were obsessed w ith a sense o f respon- ! ■ i j s i b i l i t y for f u l f i l l i n g a d estin y t© which they f e l t oom- i m itted , even though th ey were o ften aware o f the f u t i l i t y and h op elessn ess o f the ta sk . They were not on ly held | respon sible fo r what they had ex p ressly w ille d and fo r what E I j they had done, but a lso fo r secret d e sir e s and gratu itou s i m isfortunes. To Kafka, the idea o f commitment must be i 3 taken in a p assive sen se. M an does not commit h im self; he fin d s h im self already committed, in a situ a tio n where, having sought i t or n o t, he w ill be punished fo r d e fa u lt. ' Such a conception o f r e s p o n s ib ility shocks modern e th ic a l i . iand moral s e n s i b il it i e s . But i t l i e s at the base o f a l l : j ! prim itive r e lig io n ; fo r example, the "ancestral g u ilt" o f the Old Testament, and the p red estin ation to crime in eer- i ta in accursed fa m ilie s in Greek myth ( e . £ . , Oedipus and th e | | .Ajg^idae). Magny w rote: ! i i There weighs on Kafka’ s characters as on the characters o f Greek tragedy the sense o f hidden g u ilt , stronger than simple "uneasy conscience": something analogous, perhaps, to the sense o f o r ig in a l s in , w ith the ! 2 Loo, c i t . 5 I b id . , p. 77. 25 d ifferen ce that i t i s we who have committed the s in , no m atter i f we committed i t u n w ittin gly, no m atter i f we have forgotten i t . 4 Kafka f e l t stron gly that man had lo s t M s sense o f r e s p o n s ib ility , that in d iv id u a l conscience was shrinking, j and that man had forgotten the knowledge o f s in . "Most men | liv e without being conscious o f a r e s p o n s ib ility which ex- | ; tends beyond them selves. And th a t—I th ink —i s at the root o f our m isery ,” Kafka remarked in a conversation.^ W hen asked the question: ’ ’What i s sin ? ” Kafka answered: "W hat i s ; sin? W e know the word and th e p r a c tic e , but the sense and the knowledge o f sin have been l o s t . Perhaps th at i s i t s e l f damnation, G od-forsakenness, m ean in glessn ess.”6 i The lack o f any co n sisten t point o f view from which i | to judge between good and e v il in human a ctio n , forced upon i : Kafka's characters a continual sense o f remorse. Kafka i | described t h is sense when he spoke . . . o f th at etern a l damnation which c o n s is ts in having to go once more through o n e's l i f e w ith the eye o f knowledge, wherein the worst i s not the in sig h t in to obvious misdeeds but in to those deeds one once con sidered to be good.7 4 I b id . . p. 78. 5 Gustav Janouch, Conversations w ith Kafka, tra n s. Goronwy Bees (London, 1955}, p . 76. 6 Ih id . . p. 73. 7 Franz Kafka* L etters to M ilena, ed. W illi Haas, tr a n s. Tania and James Stern (Dondon, 1953), p. 29. ! S6 ; f In Kafka’s s to r ie s the nature o f the sin was o ften not c la r if ie d . In "The Metamorphosis," no s p e c ific reason f was given fo r the transform ation o f Gregor in to an in s e c t, j i or for h is su fferin g and death. Nor was the crime o f f jJoseph K ., in The T r ia l, ever in d ica ted . In "In the Penal Colony," the o f f ic e r , who acted both as judge and execu tio n e r , explained to the v is it in g explorer th at the con- i denned so ld ie r was not on ly ignorant o f what h is crime had been and what h is punishment was to be, but th at he didn’t ! even know he had been sentenced. He had not been p erm itted : to defend h im self again st th e accu sation s, explained the » o f f ic e r , because he would have on ly confused th in gs with : h is l i e s . 8 In The C a stle , the sin o f Barnabas’ fam ily i s known, i The cause o f g u ilt i s e x p lic it ly traced to .Amalia’s r e fu sa l I t o f S o r tin i’s indecent proposal. But w hile the sin i s known, Amalia’s fa th er i s n eith er able to have the crime, j ! which in v o lv es th e whole fam ily, defined by the C astle j j o f f i c i a l s , nor fin d a means o f ex p ia tio n . No one in the I i ; novel can be sure o f anything, even the c e r ta in ty th at he i has committed a s in . The V illa g e r s them selves create the j i t . i ■ ■ ■ ; r 1 J 8 Franz Kafka, "In the Penal Colony," The Penal , Colony. S to r ie s and Short P ie c e s , tr a n s. W illa and Edwin ! I Muir {New York, 1948), p. 199. B 7 taboos which surround the C a stle , and i n f l i c t the punish- j ment fo r crimes which th ey imagine to be again st the law o f ! the C astle; but no one i s certa in o f the law. No one i s sure who the C astle o f f i c ia l s are. The V illa g e r s are only i i aware o f the ex isten ce o f a tumbled-down huddle o f v illa g e ; j houses th at l i e upon th e h i l l over-lookin g th e V illa g e , which th ey have surrounded w ith an a ir o f m ystery and power. : Kafka*s characters may never be sure which a ctio n , may be a s in . An act th at appears to them as t r iv ia l and harm less, or p o sitiv e and good, may be a d e c isiv e fa c to r in , th e ir l i f e and a major s in . For example, when Karl j Kossmann, in Amerika. v i s i t s the country house o f Mr. j Pollunder fo r the n ig h t, he thinks th at he i s p leasin g h is , i i u ncle. This v i s i t , however, turns out to be th e d e cisiv e i * . w ! m is-ste p , which so d isp le a se s the u ncle, that he in s ta n tly I i withdraws h is patronage, and sends Karl out in to the world j alon e. While Gregor*s metamorphosis seems to be unjust andj I j unexplained, a few h in ts th at s i f t through the sto ry in d i- | I cate Gregor’s usurpation (even i f u n w ittin gly and in good I f a it h ) , of h is fa th e r ’s p o sitio n as head o f the fam ily. This i s a lso one o f the p o ssib le sin s o f Georg Bendemann, t i ia **T h e Judgment,1 * whose sentence and death seem so shock in g ly unwarranted. Georg a lso usurped h is fa th e r ’s p o sitio n ; and M s sense o f c u lp a b ility i s evident from h is p ro testa tio n o f parental love as he leap s over the bridge | r a ilin g , and in the fa e t th at he c a r r ie s out the death | sentence passed on him by h is demented fa th er . I t i s shocking and unacceptable to the moral se n si- t 1 b i l i t i e s o f the reader th at the characters o f Kafka’s t j s to r ie s so r e a d ily accept the r e s p o n s ib ility fo r crimes o f i i J which they seem so innocent. But Kafka did not r e ly on modern conceptions o f r e s p o n s ib ility and g u ilt . This was , h is expression o f the p rim itive conception o f the uncondi tio n a l and hidden g u ilt in the human con scien ce. I I . UNIVERSAL RESPONSIBILITY IN D O ST O E V SK Y | A b asic concept in th e n ovels and journals o f , Dostoevsky was th at the in d ivid u al was respon sible not only; fo r h is own crim es, but fo r the g u ilt o f a l l . This id ea | was at the b a sis o f h is b e lie f in the n e c e s sity o f uni v er sa l su ffe r in g . Since a l l men are g u ilty , i f only in th e ir h ea rts, each must su ffe r fo r the g u ilt o f a l l . i ! In the pages o f The Diary o f a W riter, he described ! j th is u n iversal acceptance o f g u ilt in connection w ith the ' Q I Russian p eop le’ s custom* o f sharing the g u ilt o f the ® Fyodor Dostoevsky, "Le M ilieu ” (Le C itoyen. 1875, No. 2 ), in Le Journal D’Uh E crivain . tr a n s. Jean G huzeville j (P aris, 195I T , pp. 116-127. condemned crim in al. The Russian people, Dostoevsky oh- i i served, c a ll crim in als "the m iserable ones," and give them 1 I money and r o l l s . At the b a sis o f t h is actio n was one o f | the many id e a s, "unformulated, unconscious, and, at the j m ost, stro n g ly f e l t , ” which e x iste d in the depths o f th e | sou l o f man.^® In sh ort, by th is l i t t l e word o f "miserable o n e ,” the I people seem to say to th ese "miserable ones": "You have sinned and you su ffe r , but we to o , we are sin n ers. I f we had been in your p la ce, perhaps we might have done worse. I f we had been b e tte r , you would not populate I , the p rison s. In compensation fo r th e crimes th a t you ; have committed, you assume th e weight o f everyone’s g u i l t . "11 This was w ritten in an a r t ic le which p rotested again st the p r a c tic e , by ju r ie s in fluenced by the " so c ia l is t s " and "advanced th in k ers," o f considering the crim inal’s i j environment as an extenuating circum stance. Dostoevsky jconsidered the d octrine o f environment to be opposed to the b e lie f s o f C h r istia n ity . He wrote*. 1 ’ 1 Such i s the doctrine o f environment, the opposite ' ■ o f C h ristia n ity which, w hile f u lly recognizing the in - ! flu en ce o f the environment and preaehing mercy fo r the j sin n er, holds man no le s s m orally ob ligated to struggle again st h is environment, and to determine th e p oin t or \ I the end o f environment and the beginning o f resp on si- ; ! b i l i t y . . i I In holding man resp o n sib le, C h ristia n ity recogn izes j I th at he i s fr e e . In making him dependent upon a l l the j 10 l^ id . . p. 120. 1 1 i f r i a * , P* 1 2 1 . I 30; i errors o f the s o c ia l organ ization , the doctrine o f en- vironment lead s man to the complete abdication o f h is p erso n a lity , r e le a se s him from a l l in d ivid u al moral i o b lig a tio n , from a l l independence, and lead s him in to the most ignoble slavery co n ceiv a b le,1* * The "p eop le,” sa id Dostoevsky, do not ignore g u ilt i when they c a ll the crim inal "miserable one." j Mo, the people n eith er deny the crime nor ignore that ; the crim inal i s g u ilty . The people know on ly th at t k e y ' ^ j a share the g u ilt o f each crim in al. But in accusing ^ them selves o f g u i lt , i t proves th a t th ey don’t b eliev e i in the d octrin e o f environment; they b e lie v e , on the contrary, th at the environment depends upon the in d i- 1 v id u a l, on h is constant repentance and h is own s e l f - p e r fe c tio n .13 The concept o f in d iv id u a l r e s p o n s ib ility fo r uni- v e r sa l sin and g u ilt was a key argument in Dostoevsky’s condemnation o f the in te lle c t u a l approach to the problems jo f e x iste n c e . He emphasized the innate goodness o f man’ s jnatural fe e lin g s , those hidden and unconscious, as being ; opposed to the d estru ctiv e power o f reason. He attempted i i to show th at the in t e lle c t u a ls refused to acknowledge s e l f g u ilt , or to accept su ffer in g fo r u n iversal s in ; and that j th is led to ehaos and "cannibalism." Dostoevsky’s m y s tic a l1 i i heroes, on the oth er hand, by abdication o f the in t e ll e c t , I | accepted the r e s p o n s ib ility fo r th e sin s o f others and for u n iversal g u ilt , and sought to d isso lv e e v il in 12 Ib id . . p. 119. 13 Ib id . , p. 121. s e lf le s s n e s s , lo v e , and su ffe r in g . This subject w il l be examined in more d e ta il in Chapter 71 o f t h is study, "Season Versus M ysticism in Dostoevsky." i I I I . S U M M A R Y MD C O M C L U S I O i r S < Both Dostoevsky and Kafka suggested the ex iste n c e o f | laws not evid en t to reason, fo r which man was n ev erth eless j held answerable. To Dostoevsky, th ese were m ystical "truths o f God," which were revealed to man as subeonscious tru th s th at dwelt in the human so u l. Kafka was not th is e x p lic it . He suggested th at the laws o f human conduct and ; th e knowledge o f sin had been fo rg o tten , and he pointed out ; the ex isten ce o f laws and fa c to r s beyond human knowledge | and exp erience, to which man was held resp o n sib le, and fo r which man f e l t unformulated fe e lin g s o f g u ilt . But he l e f t i the problem unsolved; Kafka did not go in search o f God or turn to Theodicy fo r an explanation o f th e unknown. r C H A P T E R I? I i I DUALITY i ! I . T H E DUALITY O P POINTS O F VIEW IN K A F K A | Kafka pointed out th at the ir r e d u o ife ility ©f p oin ts | i 1 | o f view was a fundamental condition o f human l i f e ; no two j men held the same point o f view . M an was not aware o f a | sin g le truth or ultim ate b a sis from which to judge tr a d i- ■ tio n s and ev en ts. The en d less argument and sp ecu lation ! over the meaning o f phenomena, the abrupt evasion o f fo r e gone con clu sion s, and the sudden s h if t s in d ir e c tio n , which are the dominant elem ents in h is s to r ie s , suggested th at no ! statem ent concerning ex isten ce could be made, fo r whieh the i j d irect opposite might not be eq u a lly tru e. I Motive and I n te n t. Kafka tr ie d to give a psycho- i I lo g ic a l tr a n sla tio n to the shocking id ea o f the i n i t i a l , almost p re-n a ta l, g u ilt o f man, through a c r it ic a l examin- j ation o f in ten tio n s in the e le a r con scien ce, and by expos- j ing th is g u ilt in the most apparently innocent a ctio n s.^ j i t He did t h is , fo r example, in "The Judgment," in j j ^ Claude-Edmonde Magny, "The O bjective D epiction o f Absurdity," tran s. Angel F lo res, The Kafka Problem, ed. Angel F lores (New York, 1946), p. 81. 3ir which the fa n ta s tic was grad u ally introduced in to a textu re o f commonplace r e a lit y . In th is ta le Kafka examined the 1 I i j p u rity o f the h ero 's m otives, and the p u rity o f h is frien d - ; i j ship and parental lo v e . i ! Judgment. The sto ry opens on a quiet Sunday | imorning in sp ring, as Georg Bendemann, a prosperous young merchant, has ju st fin ish e d a l e t t e r to an old fr ie n d , who has been liv in g in S t. Petersburg fo r the past sev era l i (years. The l e t t e r announces h is engagement and in v ite s the frien d to the wedding. Georg fin d s i t d if f ic u lt to convey h is sense o f happiness and p rosp erity to h is fr ie n d , whose l i f e seems such a lo n e ly fa ilu r e in comparison w ith h is ; own. Georg wonders, "What could one w rite to such a man, |who had ob viou sly run o f f the r a i l s , a man one could be |so rry fo r but could not h e lp ." 2 Georg th ou g h tfu lly con- j tr a s t s h is own su ccesses o f the past three years w ith h is fr ie n d 's fa ilu r e s . Without the in terferen ce o f h is fa th er, j who had in s is te d upon having h is own way during the j j : m other's life tim e and "had hindered him from developing any; j 3 j re a l a c t iv it y o f h is own," Georg has made a great su ccess : i i g Franz Kafka, "The Judgment," The Penal Colony. S to r ie s and Short P ie c e s , tra n s. W illa and Edwin Muir (Hew ! York, 19487, p. SO. j 1 3 p* s i - o f the business in the two years sin es the death o f h is mother, more than quadrupling the turnover. He d oesn 't know what to w rite h is fr ie n d . To ad vise h is return would be to acknowledge h is fa ilu r e ; in v ited to the wedding, he would f e e l ob liged to come, perhaps envious and discon ten ted . N everth eless, Georg in v ite s him, and then goes to show h is fa th er the l e t t e r . I t has been four months sin ee he entered h is fa th e r 's room at home, which i s n atu ra l, sin ee they see t each other d a ily at b u sin ess, but Georg i s shocked to S0@ how changed h is fa th er seems away from the o f f ic e . S ittin g in a darkened com er hung w ith various mementoes o f Georg's !dead mother, h is fath er complains o f th in gs going on behind i | h is back at the b u sin ess, o f h is old age, h is f a ilin g memory. At the end o f th is s e r ie s o f com plaints, he sud denly says: "But sin ce w e're ta lk in g about i t , about th is l e t t e r , I beg you, Georg, don't deceive me. . . .D o you r e a lly have t h i s frien d in S t. Petersburg?”4 This sur p r ise s the reader, but on ly seems to be a sig n , sin ce th e fath er has ju st complained about the lo s s o f memory, o f h is lapse in to s e n ilit y . This seems confirmed by the ir r a tio n a l seenes which fo llo w . As he i s carrying h is fa th er 4 Ib id . . p. 56. 35 t© bed, the old man plays w ith Georg’s watch chain, grasp- , ing i t so t ig h t ly th at he can not be la id on the bed* ' A fter asking t o be covered up, the old man kicks the { i blankets o f f and stands up in bed shouting, "You wanted to I i cover me up, I know my young sp r ig , but I ’m fa r from g covered up y e t .” The old man t e l l s Georg th at he has kept th is frien d s e c r e tly informed and defended h is in te r e s ts , ! and th a t Georg has been p lo ttin g again st the frien d because o f jealou sy. "He would have been a son a fte r my own h eart," exp lain s the fa th er. When, at the end o f a se r ie s o f speeches tin ged with madness and ir r a t io n a lity , the 1 I fa th er says: "I sentence you now to death by drowning!"7 i t ,seems to be only another in d ica tio n o f h is in sa n ity . At t h is p o in t, however, an amazing th ing happens: Georg f e e ls i ; h im self urged from the room, runs towards the r iv e r , and i drowns h im se lf. The denouement i s to ld in the same o b jectiv e tone o f j everyday r e a lit y as the r e s t o f the sto r y . Georg swings j h im self over the bridge r a ilin g , " lik e the d istin g u ish ed j I gymnast he had once been in h is youth, to h is parents* j 5 Ib id . , p. 59. 6 lo c . c i t . 7 I b id . , p. 63. 36: p r id e ,” and c a llin g o u t, "Dear p aren ts, I have always loved you, a l l the sam e,” he l e t s h im self drop in to the water.® ! J At the p oint where Georg drowns h im self, the d iffe r - 1 i i j ent happenings r e c la s s ify them selves, and the events th at ; 'have taken place p rior to th is strange denouement assume ! 9 jnew meaning fo r the reader. An a n a ly sis o f Georg’s sen- | tim ents and conduct from a new point o f view rev ea ls the I j s e lf - s a t is f a c t io n , the se lf-r ig h te o u sn e ss, and the hypo- jc r is y , which might have m erited him the sentence. When he 1 i i ;w rites h is fr ie n d , he does i t as an o b lig a tio n . He f e e ls p riv ileg ed to pass judgment on him. He an alyses every p o ssib le outcome o f the le t t e r and the e f f e c t s i t might |have on th e ir r e la t io n s h ip - w ili the frien d be envious, or f |hum iliated and d isconten t? Georg even judges a le t t e r o f i 'condolence, which he had received from the frien d at h is i I * mother’s death, as "phrased so dryly th at the g r ie f caused by such an even t, one had to conclude, could not be r e a liz e d in a d ista n t cou n try.”10 He com placently compares h is own su ccess—h is th riv in g b usin ess and h is engagement I to a g ir l from ”a w e ll-to -d o fam ily”—w ith h is fr ie n d ’s | ! i j . . . . . . . . . . . — ! 8 hoc. c i t . j 9 Magny, oj>. c i t . , p. 83. 10 ”The Judgment,” p . 51. b usin ess fa ilu r e and lo n ely b ach elor’s l i f e . Are th ese the! sentim ents o f true friendship? i j A second reading o f the sto r y also rev ea ls Georg’s h y p o c r itic a l and P h a risa ica l a ttitu d e towards h is fa th er. He t e l l s h is fa th e r , ”1 can’t do w ithout you in the b u si n ess, you know th at very w e ll” ; ^ yet on ly moments before ; be has been priding h im self on h is a b ilit y t© run the b u si- , | n ess sin ce h is fa th e r ’ s lo s s o f a g g ressiv en ess. As he i s i undressing him, Georg n o tic e s th at the o ld man’s underwear i i s d ir ty , and th at h e, Georg, w ill have to look a fte r him b ette r. i ; Georg’ s a ir o f su p erio rity does not emerge in to the open a t the f i r s t reading. From one point o f view Georg i s , r ig h t; h is fa th er i s lap sin g in to s e n ilit y . But th e fa c t t I that the fath er i s demented does not j u s t if y the son ’s a ttitu d e o f su p erio rity toward him. That one i s wrong does , i i not mean th at the other i s r ig h t. Kafka does not permit : 12 I anyone to be r ig h t. He lim its h im self to e sta b lish in g j i ith e d u a lity o f p oin ts o f view o f h is ch aracters, without j i ! i claim ing e ith e r superior or more tr u th fu l than the oth er. i i j The C a stle . The ir r e d u c ib ility o f p o in ts o f view j i n I b i d ., p. 56. I 12 Magny, op. cit.. p. 84. and the c r it ic a l exam ination o f in te n tio n s , which expose ' the p o s s ib ilit y o f g u ilt when the in d iv id u a l appears inno- J cen t, are a lso important elem ents in The C a stle . K. the Land Surveyor, and hero, i s a stranger to the T illa g e ; a I man w ith a d iffe r e n t point o f view from whieh to judge | conduct and tr a d itio n s . The landlady o f th e Bridge Inn ! t e l l s him: I ; I You are not from the C a stle, you are not from the I j T illa g e , you aren’t anything. Or rath er, unfortunately,1 I you are something, a stran ger, a man who i s n ’t wanted I and i s in everybody’s way, a man who’s always causing tro u b le. . . . a man whose in te n tio n s are ob scu re.13 She adds, however, ”1 don’t hold a l l th at up again st you. You are what you are. . . . «14 i t i s ju st th at K. i s so d iffe r e n t from the T illa g e r s , having an e n tir e ly d iffe r e n t : s e t of v a lu es, th a t they fin d i t d if f ic u lt to understand i i h is rea l m otives and im possible to deal w ith him. j In a v illa g e where l i f e i s con tro lled by a ccid en tal ; and unexpected ev en ts, and on ly vaguely understood eom pli- ; cated laws and tr a d itio n s , the T illa g e r s are frigh tened by any action which might com plicate th e ir liv e s ; th erefo re, i th ey avoid contact w ith K. They are never sure which con- | i ! tingeney may lead to a sin th a t w ill cause th e ir j ! I 13 Franz Kafka, The C a stle , tr a n s. W illa and Edwin | Muir, Snd ed. (New York, 1947), pp. 64-65. 14 15 irrevocab le damnation. la y b it o f aid given to K. i s m e r e ly the V illagers* e ffo r t to remove him from th e ir i s ig h t, th e ir l i v e s , and any p o ssib le contact w ith him j i (e .jg ., G erstacker, the sledge d river, refu ses to drive K. ' 1 to the G a stle, fearin g any connection with i t , and o ffe r s i to drive him back to the Bridge Inn on ly to keep K. from standing in fron t o f h is c o tta g e ). i ; K. en ters the V illa g e , thinking that he has been engaged as land surveyor, w ith a c le a r , o b je c tiv e , and de- ■ fin ed p oint o f view. Upon a r r iv a l, he sees th e G astle as " after a l l only a w retehed-looking town, a huddle o f v i l - 16 lage houses. . . ." and remarks th a t the V illa g e r s' I ob sessiv e fea r o f the com plicated C astle bureaucracy i s | stupid and unfounded. Soon, however, he becomes h o p e lessly , enmeshed in the fa n ta s tic in tr ic a c ie s o f V illa g e tr a d i- J tio n s . Although h is every contact w ith the p e tty o f f i c ia l s ; and V illa g e tr a d itio n s rein force h is f i r s t im pression, he a lso becomes aware o f an organ ization w ith apparently un- i . i j lim ited power, w ith w ell esta b lish e d laws and customs, and I ! ‘ ! an en d less number o f o f f i c i a l s ; an organization in which, the damnation o f Barnabas* fam ily i s so | com plete, th at the V illa g e r s refu se to speak th e fam ily name. Because Barnabas seems to be the le a s t g u ilt y , th ey re fer to the fam ily as "Barnabas * fa m ily ." I 16 The Gastle. p. 12. 40: i the V illa g e Superintendent t e l l s K ., "errors don’t bap- 17 ' p en .” While t h is organ ization appears ir r a tio n a l and absurd, i t seems to have a r a tio n a lity a l l o f i t s own, which £ . cannot fathom. With each new d efeat and fr u str a - ; i tio n , he becomes le s s sure o f h is own judgment u n til fin a l l y , d esp ite moments o f c la r it y and reason too involved to I j c r i t i c i s e , he com pletely accep ts th e ir world and th e ir | tr a d itio n s . K. lo s e s sig h t o f h is o r ig in a l purpose in I i < en tering the V illa g e (to fin d a n ig h t’s lodging on h is way I to the C a s tle ), and slow ly w h ittle s down h is demands u n til j he fo r g ets a l l hope o f reaching the C a stle, and would be i happy to c lin g to l i f e in the V illa g e under any con d ition s. Just as one glimmer o f hope f i l l s K. w ith dreams o f | su ccess, one doubt u tte r ly d is illu s io n s him and causes him , i | to m istru st h is judgment. At h is f i r s t m eeting w ith i : Barnabas, who i s to be h is messenger, K. i s impressed by h is manner and d rees. He remarks th at "the m aterial he was i wearing had the so ftn ess and d ig n ity of s ilk ," and he i p laces great confidence in Barnabas’ a b ilit y to aid him. But im m ediately, without apparent cause, he begins to doubt, Barnabas; "perhaps K. was as mistaken in Barnabas’ goodness ! ■ 18 1 as in the m aliee o f the p easan ts. . . . ” He begins to j 17 Ib id . . p. 85. ! 18 I b id . , p. 34. j n o tice th at BarnabasT . . . sm ile seemed l e s s b r illia n t , and h is person more in s ig n ific a n t. . . . He had been bewitched by Barnabas* c lo s e - f it t in g , silken-gleam ing ja ck et, which, now th at 1 i t was unbuttoned, displayed a coarse d ir ty grey sh ir t j patched a l l over. .- . . 19 1 iIn another in sta n ce, K. remarks th at F ried a's hands "were j j c e r ta in ly sm all and d e lic a te , but they could q uite as w e ll ■ 20 j have been c a lle d weak and characterless.** And K. hears | * * a b e ll rin gin g m errily” from the G astle, but he quickly 21 n o tic e s ”i t s tone was menacing, to o . . . . ” i The novel i s f i l l e d w ith th ese sudden s h if t s in meaning. With no esta b lish ed point o f view from which to judge, the V illa g e r s lo se them selves in argument over the meaning o f ev en ts. Olga and K. debate the connection th at , Barnabas has w ith the G astle: I s he a C astle employee? I s i I the bureau he v i s i t s every day r e a lly in the G astle? I s i t 1 K ip n n rn he sees? Does E L aram r e a lly e x ist? K. and Frieda 1 argue in en d less con trad iction attem pting to evaluate the true sig n ific a n c e o f K .*s two a s s is ta n ts and d iscover who I they r e a lly are. K. and the Superintendent engage in a > 1 f u t ile a n a ly sis o f ELamm*s l e t t e r , try in g to d iscover i t s I 19 Ib id . . p. 40. 80 I b id . . p. 50. 21 I b id ., p. 21. ' --------- ’ j true meaning. As K. i s confounded by T illa g e tr a d itio n , so are the T illa g e r s and p etty o f f i c i a l s fru stra ted in th e ir attempt 1 to evaluate K. and h is m otives. "To prove the Land Sur veyor K. *s g u ilt i s not an easy m atter," says the T illa g e jSecretary Momus, in the p rotocol drawn up again st K. One can only get on h is tra ck , indeed, when one g iv es o n e se lf up to h is tr a in o f thought, p ain fu l as t h is may be. In doing so one must not allow o n e se lf to be turned asid e i f one comes across a p iece o f wickedness in cred ib le when seen w ith our eyes; on the contrary when one reaches that point i t i s certain th at one has not gone a stra y , then on ly does one know one i s on the i rig h t tr a c k .22 iThe T illa g e r s fin d i t d if f ic u lt to understand K.* s p oin t o f view , to get on "his tr a in o f thought"; and a deed which | appears p e r fe c tly innocent to K * i s a p iece o f in cred ib le | wiekedness when seen through the eyes o f the T illa g e r s . ; For t h is reason, M om us and the landlady o f the Bridge Inn ascrib e to K .* s re la tio n sh ip w ith Frieda deep and in ten tio n a l e v i l . "It was sim ply out o f ca lcu la tio n o f the j v i l e s t kind th at K. made up to Frieda," M omus d escrib es in j the p r o t o c o l . T h e y charge him w ith using her, the ex- I ; m istress o f Klamm, as a "hostage," through which to bar- j gain . The deeds them selves, however, are not under 22 I b id ., pp. 334-335 (a fragment o f the protocol afterwards d e le te d ). 23 I b id .. p. 335. 43 q uestion. K. r e a d ily admits th at a l l o f the a cts with I which they charge him are tru e. "Everything th at you say ! i s in a certa in sense j u s t if ia b le , i t i s not untrue, i t i s | on ly p artisan ," i s h is answer to the landlady’s in te r p r e ts -; 1 24 { tio n o f h is conduct. Only the m otives a ttrib u ted to the i | ieed s can be argued, and even th ey cannot be reduced to I th at point where "truthful" judgment i s p o s s ib le ., K. ad m its th at he attempted to reaeh K lam m . through Frieda; but > ; i j he denies th e ir in terp re ta tio n o f h is m otives, and claim s 1 ■ $ > ' that h is action would be shameful on ly i f Frieda and he d id ' not love each oth er. He i n s is t s th at because o f th e ir i lo v e , th e ir d e s tin ie s are in sep arab le, and he th erefore i ✓ | f e e ls j u s t if ie d in using Frieda as a means to h is goal; but j he continues to deny having used her so v i l e l y as th ey sug- ' i 1 g e s t. His defense i s weakened by th e ir a ttr ib u tio n o f i M achiavellian in te n tio n s to the le a s t prem editated o f | a ctio n s and the most gratu itou s o f s itu a tio n s . I t was by j i chance th at K. met Frieda, and i t was she who offered her- j I s e l f to him in the beer puddles o f the Herrenhof barroom; she came to him o f her own v o litio n because o f her lo v e. i j Hone o f K. *s d en ia ls convinces h is accu sers. They J t ; ■ do not doubt h is s in c e r ity , fo r they claim to know more | 24 Ibid.. p. 206. 44 about h is m otives than he. Mor do th ey aeeuse him o f : i ly in g . Frieda assures K. th at the landlady i . . . didn’t hold th a t you were 'lyin g,-on the contrary ; she said th at you were c h ild is h ly open, but your character was so d iffe r e n t from ours, she sa id , th a t, even when you spoke fran k ly, i t was bound to be d i f f i - | c u lt for us to b e lie v e you; and i f we did not lis t e n ! to good advice we would have to learn to b eliev e you i through b it t e r exp erien ce.25 ; The V illa g ers cannot b eliev e that K. i s r e a lly frank in j j saying th at he w i ll tr y to reach the C astle by every pos- ! s ib le means. This i s a procedure and a goal so taboo, so I - * ou tsid e o f th e ir tr a d itio n s , th at they cannot f u lly grasp i the id ea , much le s s bring them selves t© b e lie v e i t . The V illa g e r s attempt to reach beyond the in ten tio n s i them selves; th ey are searching fo r more than m otives. They ; want an accurate evalu ation o f K. h im self; a knowledge o f h is e s s e n tia l b eing. And th is i s something K. h im self does; I ; not know, nor can i t be decided upon by strangers judging from an e n tir e ly d iffe r e n t p oin t o f view . The d u a lity o f p o in ts o f view i s again evident in j i K.*s e ffo r t to judge Amalia’ s conduct. A fter Olga has | f i : rela ted Amalia’s having torn up S o r tin i’s summons to v i s i t j him at the Herrenhof, a le t t e r ’ ’couched in the v i l e s t j I lan guage,” and thrown in the m essenger’ s fa c e , K ., m orally i 25 Ibid., p. 201 shocked, condemns S o rtin i v io le n tly : ”. . . i t was h im self that S o rtin i shamed, and not Amalia. I t ’s S o r tin i that h o r r ifie s me, the p o s s ib ilit y o f such an abuse o f power."2® But a fte r learn in g how the V illa g ers punished the whole ! fam ily fo r her a ctio n , and a fte r Olga has given him various I in te r p r e ta tio n s, K. remarks: * Amalia’s aet was remarkable enough, but the more you say about i t the le s s c le a r ly can i t be decided whether i t was noble or p e tty , clev e r or fo o lis h , heroic or cowardly; Amalia keeps her m otives locked in her own ; bosom and no one w i ll ever get at them.27 R esp o n sib ility in Kafka did not depend on the in - te n tio n s, and sca rcely on the a c ts. I t mattered l i t t l e whether a man had done something purposely or n o t, or i ! whether he was m a te ria lly g u ilt y , sin ce he was not charged | w ith having done something, but w ith being something. 1 Kafka reached beyond in te n tio n s them selves to th e essenee PR o f th e being, i t s fundamental g u ilt and p e r v e r sity . ° In th e Penal Colony. In the story c a lle d "In the Penal Colony” the p r in c ip le s o f the knowledge o f sin i i j through su fferin g and the sin o f f a ilin g to f u l f i l l one’s j I ...................—...— .... 26 I b id -. P* 249• 27 Ib id . , p. 256. 28 Magny, "The O bjective D epiction o f A bsurdity,” p. 87. I j d estin y are added to th e ir r e d u c ib ility o f p oin ts o f view . To the exp lorer, the crim inal proeess seems te r r ib ly | unjust and inhuman. Although he f e e l s stro n g ly tempted to ! | intervene in the execu tion , he reminds h im self that . . . he was n eith er a member o f the penal colony nor I a c itiz e n o f th e s ta te to which i t belonged. . . . ' he tra v eled on ly as an observer, w ith no in ten tio n at a l l o f a lte r in g other p eo p le’s methods o f adm inistering j u s t i c e .29 He i s a fo reig n er, w ith a d iffe r e n t point o f view from that o f th e o f f ic e r . The s o ld ie r , whose sin g le crime has been to clu tch h is su p erio r’s le g and cry: ”Throw th at whip away 30 or I ’l l eat you a l i v e ,” in stead o f begging forg iv en ess a fte r having been lashed across the fa c e , knows n eith er the i isentence passed on him, nor even th a t he has been tr ie d . I ! He has had no chance o f defending h im self again st the » ‘ 'a ccu sa tio n s, says the o f f ic e r , ’ ’turning h is eyes away as i f , i 1 speaking to h im self and so sparing the exp lorer the shame | qp*| [ o f hearing s e lf-e v id e n t m atters e x p la in e d ,”0 because th e j I so ld ie r would have only confused th in g s w ith h is l i e s . j | ”There would be no p oint in t e ll in g him. He’l l learn i t on j j 29 Franz Kafka, ”In the Penal C olony,” The Penal i Colony. S to r ie s and Short P ie c e s, tr a n s. W illa and Edwin Muir {New York, 1948), p. 206. 30 I b id . . P. 199. i 31 I b id . , pp. 197-198. 32 M s body.” As judge fo r the penal colony (the o f f ic e r i s judge as w ell as ex ecu tio n er), M s guiding p rin cip le is : j ' 33 1 "Guilt i s never to be doubted." ! I The methods do not seem severe to the o ffic e r ; . . o n the contrary," he t e l l s the exp lorer, "your pro found experience lead s you to b eliev e they are most humane | *4 J and most in consonance w ith human d ig n ity . . . The i : ; condemned man i s placed on the machine where the sentence | j , i s w ritten on h is body w ith n eed les fo r a period o f tw elve j ! ! hours. For the f i r s t s ix hours he stays a liv e and su ffe r s : ; on ly pain, at which time he becomes q u iet. I Enlightenment comes to the most d u ll-w itte d . I t begins around th e ey e s. From there i t ra d ia te s. A moment th at might temp one to get under the Harrow o n e s e lf. j Nothing more happens than th at the man begins to under- I stand the in sc r ip tio n , he purses h is mouth as i f he I were lis te n in g . You have seen how d if f ic u lt i t i s to decipher the sc r ip t w ith one’s eyes; but our man de- i ciphers i t w ith M s wounds. To be pure, th a t i s a hard: task ; he needs s ix hours to accomplish i t . By'that" time the Harrow has pierced him quite through and ca sts him in to the P it. . . . Then the judgment has been fu l-; f i l l e d . . . 1 In the days o f the o ld Commandant, the v a lle y o f execu tion was packed w ith sp ecta to rs. At the s ix th hour 1 32 I b id . , p. 197. 33 I b id . . p. 198. 34 I b id . . p. 212. 35 I b id . , p. 204. 481 I . . . i t was im possible to grant a l l the requests to be ' allowed t© watch i t from near by. The Commandant in ! h is wisdom ordained th at the ch ildren should have the i preferen ce. . . . How we a l l absorbed the look o f ! tra n sfig u ra tio n on the face o f the su ffe r e r , how we | j bathed our cheeks in the radiance o f th at ju s tic e , j achieved at la s t and fading so quickly! 3* > ! I In s p ite o f the o f f ic e r 's obvious s in c e r ity , the \ explorer refu ses to in flu en ce the new Commandant in favor o f the old method o f punishment. The o f f ic e r , r e a liz in g th at the old means o f ju d ic ia l procedure i s at an end (the machine i s decaying, and he i s the so le remaining d is c ip le i o f the old Commandant), fr e e s the so ld ie r and clim bs in to the machine h im self. He ad ju sts the machine to w rite the commandment ”B E JUST" on h is body. The exp lorer . . . knew very w e ll what was going to happen, but he had no rig h t to ob stru ct the o ffic e r in anything. I f the ju d ic ia l procedure which th e o f f ic e r cherished were r e a lly so near i t s en d --p o ssib ly as a r e s u lt of h is own in terv en tio n , as to which he f e l t h im self pledged—then the o f f ic e r was doing the rig h t th in g; in h is place the exp lorer would not have acted o th er w ise .37 ; The machine, however, w ith the o ff ic e r strapped in sid e , f a l l s to p ieces; ". . . th is was no e x q u isite tortu re such j t fZ Q ' as the o f f ic e r d esired , th is was p lain murder." The I ; explorer n o tic e s th at 36 Ib id . . p. 209. 37 Ib id . . pp. 220-821. 38 I b id . . p. 224. . . . no sign was v is ib le o f the promised redemption; J what the oth ers had found in th e machine the o f f ic e r ; had not found; the l ip s were firm ly pressed to g eth er, 1 the eyes were open, w ith the same exp ression as in ; l i f e , the look calm and convinced, through th e fo r e- i head went the p oint o f th e great iron s p ik e .39 ' Before lea v in g the colon y, the explorer v i s i t s the grave of the old Commandant, which he fin d s under a ta b le 1 in the teahouse. O n the gravestone i s in scrib ed : i ’’Here r e s ts the old Commandant. His adherents, who now must be nam eless, have dug th is g£ave and s e t up th is ston e. There i s a prophecy th at a fte r a ce rta in number, o f years the Commandant w ill r is e again and lead h is ; adheren ts from th is house to ^recover the colony. Have fa ith and w ait.'”46 ■ The bystanders in th e teahouse sm ile and fin d the in sc r ip - • tio n r id ic u lo u s, expecting the ex p lo rer's agreement. He ■ • * ignores th e ir sm iles, however, qtuit® the teahouse and heads fo r th e harbor. ! As h is boat lea v es the shore fo r the w aitin g | ! i t I ! steam er, he d riv es the condemned man and the s o ld ie r , who I attempt to escape w ith him, away from the boat w ith a ; ! knotted rope. I The condemned so ld ie r does not know what h is crime | has been, anymore than does Joseph K. in The T r ia l: but j unlike Joseph K ., he has not the s lig h te s t fe e lin g o f 39 I b id . . p. 225. 40 Ib id *. P* 226. I 50' g u ilt . A a the o f f ic e r ex p la in s, i t would have been impos s ib le fo r him to comprehend h is g u ilt ; he can on ly learn I i i t on h is body, through pain and su ffe r in g . From the I i o f f ic e r 's p oint of view , the enlightenm ent of the six th hour and the radiance o f ju s tic e tra n sfig u rin g the face o f th e g u ilty one are worth a l l the previous su ffe r in g . I s th is an expression o f the Dostoevskian theme o f the power and the n e c e s s ity o f su fferin g? The ta le g iv es no p o sitiv e : in d ic a tio n . I t i s th e o b jectiv e report o f what the ex p lorer saw, from which the reader can draw any conclusion he w ish es. The explorer does not commit h im self to a de- ( f in it e judgment. While th e inhumanity o f the ju d ic ia l 1 procedure seems undeniable, and he f e e ls pledged not to i jin terven e in i t s favor, he con stan tly reminds h im self th at ' he i s a foreign er w ith another concept o f ju s tic e . He has j i seen enough o f l i f e and the world to know th at anything i s < I p o ssib le , th at t h is procedure may even be r ig h t. This i s ! i evidenced by hi/s r e fu sa l to take lig h t ly the prophecy th at i the old Commandant w ill r is e again and s e t the machine back i j in to motion, by h is refu sa l to take the r e s p o n s ib ility of | aid in g the two so ld ie r s to escape from the Colony, and by i i h is b e lie f th at the o ffic e r i s doing the r ig h t th in g when J he seeks redemption in the machine. Although the o f f ic e r , so le guardian o f the old I ju d ic ia l procedure, has o ste n sib ly done everything in h is power to keep i t in op eration , he f e e ls resp on sib le fo r \ j the fa ilu r e to f u l f i l l h is d estin y . W hen he sees th a t the : old method o f adm inistering ju s tic e i s at i t s end, he seeks i punishment and redemption. The commandment he w ishes to I have w ritten on h is body, M E E JUST,” in d ic a te s g u ilt at I ^ , having fa ile d as judge o f the penal colon y, although he ! executed h is d u ties to the b est o f h is a b ilit y . The e c sta sy and enlightenm ent o f the six th hour are, in an ex isten ce where everything i s a cc id en ta l, fo r some reason denied him. i I I . DUALITY O F C H A R A C T E R IN D O ST O E Y SK Y t I The p e r so n a litie s o f Dostoevsky’s characters are masses o f c o n flic tin g id ea s, em otions, and d e sir e s . The i p erso n a lity i s the b a ttle ground fo r love and h atred, good I | and e v i l . As Gide pointed o u t, Dostoevsky did not s ty liz e j ' or sim p lify the com plexity o f l i f e or p erso n a lity , as i ' / I n ineteen th century l had done in th e ir psycho lo g lca l^ e lv iG g s* in to human charac- j i i te r . They f i l l e d in the gaps o f p erso n a lity fo r the sake ] J o f lo g ic , whereas Dostoevsky showed man to be the dw elling p lace o f jT ealings that were c o n flic tin g and in c o n siste n t. j ( | ^ Andre Gide, D ostoievsky {P aris, 1985), pp. 143-149.! ; Balzac and the French n o v e lis ts o f the I / _____------------------------------------------------------- "In every man . . . a demon l i e s h id d en ,” wrote ' t Dostoevsky in Ivan Karamazov’s con fession o f f a it h , ”th8 demon o f rage, th e demon o f lu s t f u l heat at the screams o f |th e tortured v ictim , the demon o f law lessn ess l e t o f f the 1 42 chain. . . . ” Even the most s a in tly o f h is characters confessed to a lack o f p erfect fa ith in God and an in e lin a - jtion towards s in . The bishop Tihon adm itted to Stavrogin 1 45 'that h is fa ith was im perfect; and Alyosha Karamazov, a fte r hearing Dmitri con fess to love o f v ic e and c r u e lty , s a id , . . . I am the same as you are. . . . The lad d er’ s the same. I ' i at the bottom s te p , and you *re above, some- , where about the th ir te e n th . . . . But i t ’s a b so lu tely ( ! the same in kind. Any one on the bottom step i s bound , / to go up to the top one. 4 The emotions o f l ove and hatred fo r the same ob ject ^ were a dominant in d ica tio n o f the in co n sisten cy in per- so n a lity . The hatred was o ften accompanied by g u ilt j (e s p e c ia lly when the ob ject was the fa th e r ), the d esire to j su ffe r and to make the lo v e-h a te ob ject s u ffe r . This j la t t e r tendency may be seen in the long lin e o f romantic I 42 Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov. tran s.I Constance Garnett (New York, 1929), p. 250. ! 43 Fyodor Dostoevsky. ”At Tihon’ s , ” tr a n s. Avrahm j Yarmolinsky, The P ossessed (New York, 1936), p. 697. j 44 The Brothers Karamazov, p. 113. ! i 53 J h eroin es, Natasha Ichmenyev in The In su lted and In ju red . — I I I P olina Alexandrevna in The Gambler. Nastasya Filipovma in j The I d io t . L iza in The P o ssessed , and Grushenka, Katerina , | Ivanovna, and Liza Khokhlakova in The Brothers Karamazov* i 1 ' | In ea rth ly lo v e , love not m otivated by C h r ist-lik e hum ility! { and s e lfle s s n e s s ( £ .£ ., th e love o f Sonia in Crime and Punishment and Prinoe Myshkin in The I d io t ) , there can he no e q u a lity . The lover must he e ith e r a b so lu te m a ster , and I enjoy the d e lig h ts o f dominating and torm enting, or the complete s la v e , enjoying the sp e c ia l p leasu res o f su ffe r in g . Natasha (The In su lted and Injured) expressed t h is to her ex-sw eetheart in d iscu ssin g her love a ffa ir w ith i ! Alyosha; i ! You see , Vanya, I decided th at I d id n 't love him as an ! equal, as a woman u su a lly loves a man. I loved him , j lik e . . . almost lik e a mother. . . . I even fancy I th a t th e r e 's no love in the world in which two love each other lik e e q u a ls.45 i Natasha fin d s s a tis fa c tio n in her m iserable p o sitio n as I ! m istress to the sp in e le ss Alyosha, adm itting th at she en- | : j joys the torment o f being h is ab ject sla v e . She both lo v es I ' i and h ates her r iv a l, the precocious Katya, and meets her in: scenes rem iniscent o f the meeting o f the r iv a ls fo r j D m itri's lo v e , Katerina and Grushenka, in The Brothers j 45 fyodor Dostoevsky, The In su lted and Injured, tra n s. Constance Garnett (London, 1915), p. S91. f i i J 54 j Karamazov. Vanya, f i l l e d w ith s a c r ific e and m asoch istic I j | s e lf - p it y , enjoys the p e c u lia r ly Dostoevskian p o sitio n o f I I j the j i lt e d lo v er who a s s is t s h is r iv a l in an a f f a ir with | the woman he s t i l l lo v e s. The Underground M an expressed the complement o f | Natasha’ s sentim ent when he con fessed , ! . . . w ith me, lo v in g meant tyrannizing and showing my j moral su p e rio rity . I have never in my l i f e been able i to imagine any oth er so rt o f lo v e , and have nowadays come to the p oin t o f sometimes thinking th a t love r e a lly c o n sists o f th e r ig h t—fr e e ly given by th e be loved o b ject—to tyrannize over h e r .4® The E ternal Husband. The c o n flic t between love and hatred, the d esire to su ffe r and to make the love ob jeet I I s u ffe r , and two very d iffe r e n t exp ression s o f g u ilt are ; evident in the short n o v el, The Eternal Husband. The novel opens w ith a sketch o f Alexy Ivanoviteh ' Velehaninov, a handsome and cultured man o f s o c ie ty , who, at the age o f th ir ty -n in e , abruptly breaks w ith s o c ie ty and goes in to se c lu sio n . He begins to worry about ! "higher id ea s," w ith which, e a r lie r , he would never have i I j concerned h im self, and becomes hypochondriac, insom niac, i and e x c e ss iv e ly s e n s itiv e . A fter years o f p laying the | 46 Fyodor Dostoevsky, Motes from Underground, in ' TkQ Short MoveIs o f D ostoevsky, tr a n s. Constance Garnett jTIew York, 1945), p. 218. 55 in s e n s itiv e rone, he suddenly begins to remember h is past e v il deeds, a c ts th at heretofore he would not have con sidered e v i l , i f he had thought o f them at a l l , and i s f i l l e d w ith remorse. At tim es, e s p e c ia lly in the ea rly morning, he t r ie s to fig h t again st h is su fferin g and re morse by mocking these "higher ideas" th at overtake him in the n ig h t, and t e llin g h im self, in a s p ir it o f irony and r e b e llio n , th at i f tempted again he would not h e sita te a moment to do e v i l . In d esperation, he turns to a learned doctor for co n su lta tio n , and . . . th e answer he received was th at the transforma tio n o f id eas and sen sa tio n s, and even the p ossession o f two d is t in c t s e ts o f thoughts and sen sa tio n s, was a u n iversal fa c t among persons "who think and f e e l," that the con v ictio n s o f a whole life tim e were sometimes transformed under the m e2 iM telx J llJ l® a c© s o t n ight and sle e p le ssn e ss: without rhyme or r e a i‘ fi^MWSti*momen- too conscious o f the double nature of. h ls^f e e li^ . so The dootor ad vises a change in scenery and relaxin g medi c in e s, and Alexy t r ie s to convince h im self th at h is "higher 48 ideas" are m erely due to i l l n e s s . ^ Fyodor Dostoevsky, The S tern al Husband, in The Short Novels o f Dostoevsky, p. 347. 48 Alexy c a lle d "higher" a l l id eas which he could not laugh at in h is heart (p. 347, The S tern al Husband) . 56 1 Alexy Has become in tr o sp e c tiv e , fo r unexplained I reasons, much lik e Joseph K. in The T r ia l, and he examines h is past from a new p oint o f view. His guilt-dream s give evidence o f h is subconscious awareness o f g u ilt , h ith erto ! su c c e ssfu lly repressed. Alexy dreams "of some erime which he had committed and concealed and o f which he was accused 49 | by people who kept coming up to him. " A s ile n t man , appears in th e dream, an in tim ate frien d whose name he can i no longer remember. The crowd seems to be w aitin g fo r a ] | f in a l word from t h is man to decide Alexy’s g u ilt or inno- cence. He awakens and, going to the window, sees the man I from the dream staxin g up a t h is window from across the s t r e e t . The man clim bs to Alexy*s room, and he recogn izes I \ Pavel F avlovitch Trusotsky, w ith whom he had liv e d in a ! p ro v in cia l town nine years e a r lie r . I Pavel i s an extreme example o f the dual p erso n a lity . While h is w ife was a liv e , the " p assion ate, c r u e l, sensual 50 type" Hatalya Y assilyevn a, who en tertained and tormented a s e r ie s o f lo v ers throughout th e ir twenty years o f mar ria g e, Pavel played the ro le o f a husband "whose so le voca- j 51 tio n was to correspond to th at fem inine typ e." He was 49 Ib id . . p. 357. 50 I*>*d. , p. 370. 51 Ib id . . p. 371. ,a sort o f "eternal husband," whose c h ie f decorations were the horns o f the cuckold. At N atalya’s death, w ith the | I discovery th a t she had been u n fa ith fu l, h is p erso n a lity ' | com pletely changes. Having seen "such a s o lid , decorous i I 52 ! person," he turns in to a "predatory type" w ith a " secret, j underground, loathsome impulse and d isto rte d fe e lin g that i 53 io n ly degrades." | Pavel has come to Petersburg w ith the purpose, |con sciou s or unconscious, o f encountering Alexy* He lo v es ' and h ates him, and a lte r n a te ly d e sir e s to torm ent, to be reco n ciled , and to murder him. A fter N atalya’ s death, he d iscovers th at Liza i s not h is , but A lexy’s daughter. Pavel torments Alexy (who, u n til t h is p o in t, had not known o f the c h ild ’s b irth ) w ith i ' ; repeated h in ts th at he knows about the in f id e lit y . Pavel a lso punishes h im self, and seeks revenge on h is dead w ife | i and Alexy, by to rtu rin g L iza, in sp ite ©f h is love fo r h er. . Alexy cannot understand t h is ; "How could th at monster be i so cru el to a c h ild whom he had loved so much, and i s i t i t credible?" he wonders. "But every tim e he made h aste to i ^ I dism iss th at question and, as i t were, brush i t a sid e; j 52 IS id . . P. 335. 53 Ifrifl. * P* 404. 58 there was something awful in th at q u estion , something he Liza embodies a complex o f g u ilt and c o n flic tin g lo v es and lo y a lt ie s , which seems fa r beyond her eigh t years. P avel, who had shown her tender love before her mother*s death, suddenly becomes a drunken beast d e lig h tin g in her tortu re and repulsing her lo v e . Alexy learn s from the landlady the exten t o f L iza ’s m istreatm ent. Pavel has en tertain ed a p r o stitu te in th e sordid h o te l room, in the presence o f the l i t t l e g i r l , and shouted, ’ ’She w ill be your mother, i f I choose!** at which the p r o stitu te s p its in h is fa c e . Then he says to L iza, ’ ’You’re not my ch ild ! You’re RE a bastard ’ ”00 I D iscovering her ille g itim a c y , Liza id e n t if ie s her s e l f w ith her mother and f e e l s a sense o f g u ilt fo r her m other’s in f id e lit y . Alexy learn s th a t in the past L iza 54 . P* 55 The Garnett tr a n sla tio n g iv es t h is lin e to the p r o s titu te , and in se r ts dashes fo r the word "bastard”: ’ ’ ’You're not my daughter, but h e’s a -----------!* she c r ie d ” (The E ternal Husband, p. 398). B oris de Sehloezer g iv es the lin e^ to Pavel; ”11 c r ia it ; ’Tu n ’es pas non enfant! tu es une b a ta rd e!’” (L’Eternal M ari, tr a n s. B oris de Sehloezer CParis: Gallimard, 1948], p. 9 5 ). The la t t e r tr a n sla tio n makes sense in the context o f the sto r y , as i t i s the only p lace where the reader learn s d e fin ite ly th at Pavel has to ld th e c h ild she i s ille g it im a t e , which helps to account fo r her deep sense o f g u ilt . K A could not bear to s o lv e .” 59 had loved Pavel more than her mother; but th at sin ce her m other's death, Liza lo v es her more than anyone e ls e in the world, through id e n tific a tio n w ith her g u i l t . 56 Pavel in t e n s if ie s th is sense o f id e n tific a tio n . On one occasion , he says: "You se e , sh e 's her mother over again." "I'm not my mother over again, I'm not my mother over again!" cried Liza in despair, wringing her l i t t l e hands, and as i t were try in g to defend h e r s e lf before her fath er from th at awful reproach o f being lik e her mother. 57 In ad d ition to the sense o f g u ilt she experiences from th e knowledge th at she i s a bastard and the id e n ti fic a tio n w ith her mother, Liza f e e ls the remorse th at g o accompanies e p ile p sy . This remorse i s fu rth er aggravated by the punishment th at Pavel i n f l i c t s because o f her e p ile p sy , and h is th reat to hang h im self because o f her. 56 ^he S tern al Husband, p. 384. 57 I b id . , p. 381. 58 Dostoevsky in s is te d th at the e p ile p tic was sub je c t to a deep sense o f remorse. He wrote: " E p ilep tics are disposed to a constant and morbid s e lf-a c c u s a tio n ; they are tortured by g u ilt and remorse th at o fte n has no foundation. They exaggerate and even invent v ic e s and heinous crimes" (c ite d by Dominique Arban, D ostoievsk i "Le Ooupable" CParis, 1953], p. 1S6). Strakov, h is e d ito r , wrote: "According to Dostoevsky, the sadness th at overwhelmed him fo r two or three days a fte r an attack was caused by the fe e lin g o f being a crim inal; i t seemed to him th at he was crushed by a fe e lin g o f g u ilt , by some unknown and te r r ib le crime th at he had committed" (c ite d by Arban, ib id . , pp. 126-127). Liza has a seizu re a fte r seein g the body o f a cleric, who : has hanged h im self in the h o te l. j | "It was a f i t , " the landlady d escrib es to A lexy, "and j sh e’s been poorly ever sin ce th a t hour. He heard o f j i t , came home, and pinched her a l l over—fo r he * s not one fo r b eatin g, h e’s more given to pinching her, and j afterw ards, when he came home a fte r having a drop, h e ’d fr ig h te n her: ’I ’l l hang m yself t o o ,’ h e’d say; ’you’l l make me hang m yself; on t h is blind-cord h e r e ,’ h e ’d i say; and h e ’d make a noose before her eyes. And sh e’d ! fee feeside h e r s e lf— sh e’d scream and throw her l i t t l e arms round him: *1 won’t i ’ she'd cry, *1 never w ill a g a in .’ I t was p i t i f u l." 5® Liza i s in such a sta te o f despair th at she attem pts to throw h e r s e lf out o f the window. A lexy, learn in g th at L iza i s h is c h ild , tak es her from the m iserable surroundings o f the h o te l and p laces her | w ith a fam ily o f fr ie n d s. F ille d w ith love fo r her, the ' f i r s t genuine love he has ever f e l t fo r another human, he ! pledges to dedicate h is l i f e to her, hoping th at . . . by my love fo r Liza . . . a l l my old p utrid and u se le ss l i f e would be p u r ifie d and exp iated . . . * For her sake everything would be forgiven me and I could forgive m yself everyth in g. 60 I . i | When he i s about to return to Petersburg, a look o f te rro r j t ; ; comes over L iza 's fa c e . She k is s e s h is hands fe v e r is h ly I i and begs him to look a fte r P avel, fea rin g th at he w ill j ! carry out th e th reat to hang h im self. Alexy muses, "And J 59 T h® S tern al Husband, p. 399. 60 I b id ., p. 413. 61 ! can sh e, can she r e a lly love him so much? . . . She had to ld me h e r s e lf th at morning th a t she loved her mother more ; . . . perhaps she hated him and did not love him at a l li" 6 1 i ! Alexy*s care comes too la t e . Torn between love and , hatred fo r her fath er and mother, fe e lin g resp on sib le fo r her mother*s in f id e lit y , fo r being a bastard, fo r being the eause o f P a v el's threatened su ic id e , and w ith a sense o f remorse fo r her e p ile p sy , Liza lo s e s the w ill to l i v e . 1 i | P avel, who i s resp on sib le Tor her death, refu ses to v i s i t ; her when, in fe v er, she fr a n tic a lly c a lls fo r him. Yet he i s s t i l l able to say, "Bo you know what L iza has meant to g o me and means?"”* ' I j In The S ternal Husband the c o n flic t o f lo v e and I hatred i s shown in one o f th e most s ta r tlin g o f a l l Bostoevsky’ s exaggerated and grotesque scen es. i One night when Pavel i s v is it in g him, Alexy i s sud- : denly overcome by a p a in fu l attack in h is c h e st. Pavel i s beside h im self at the sig h t o f Alexy*s pain. He puts him | to bed and a p p lies hot compresses to ease the su ffe r in g . R elieved , Alexy f a l l s in to a deep sle e p . He has a dream | sim ila r to h is guilt-dream on the eve o f P a v el's f i r s t • ! ' 61 Ib id . . p. 388. 52 Ibid., p. 396. I 62 1 appearance. The room i s again crowded w ith people who shake th e ir f i s t s at him and accase him o f something. A s ile n t accuser appears, as b efore, resem bling P avel. The j people suddenly rush to the door, and sta r t to bring "some- l thing in w ith them, something b ig and heavy" 63 (probably ! .. i | the c o ffin o f L iza, fo r whose death Alexy f e e ls a sense o f ’ i ; c u lp a b ility ). A rin g o f the door b e ll brings Alexy par- ! t i a l l y out o f h is dream, and he leap s out o f bed. His ou t- ; stretch ed hand meets the blade o f an opened razor, held by 1 I ' ! , Parrel, who was bending oirer him la h is sle e p . The two grapple togeth er on the flo o r in a so rt o f death stru g g le. ! "During those three minutes n eith er o f them uttered a word; i j nothing was audible but th e ir heavy breathing and the i 64 i m uffled sounds o f th e ir stru g g lin g ." P avel, who on ly f | hours before had been fr a n tic a lly tryin g to ease h is su f- | i | ! fa r in g , i s about to s l i t h is th roat w ith a razor. , i Alexy comes to the conclusion th at "Pavel P a v lo v itc h 1 i c e r ta in ly meant to cut h is th r o a t, but th at perhaps on ly a j ! quarter o f an hour before had not known th at he would do i i t ." 63 He wanted to k i l l him, 63 I b id ., p. 456. 64 I b id . , p. 457. 65 Ib id . , p. 458. 63 . . . but didn’t know he wanted to k i l l him. I t ’s ! s e n s e le s s , but t h a t ’s the tr u th . . . . I t was not to g et a post and i t was not on Bagautov's account he came ! here. . . . He came here on my account and he came here w ith L iza. . . . 66 But did he love me yesterday when he declared h is fe e lin g and said ’Let us s e t t le our account’? Yes, i t i was from hatred th a t he loved me; th a t’s th e stro n g est | o f a l l lo v e s . . . i ! In th is novel are found two s tr ik in g ly con trastin g |exp ression s o f g u ilt . Liza demonstrates the theme o f ex p ia tio n without having committed a crim e. A lexy, on the \/ oth er hand, i s a sin n er become aware o f h is g u ilt fo r on ly ^ a b r ie f period in h is l i f e . Like Stavrogin (The P ossessed), h is gesture o f exp iation f a i l s . His one hope, that h is i ;sin s w ill be expiated through lo v e , d ies with L iza. At the iend o f th e novel he has returned to the l i f e o f the s e l f - ! !s a t is f ie d roue. , i ; A Haw Youth. That Dostoevsky did not allow fo r con- ; I —— ! sis te n c y in human p erso n a lity or emotion i s shown In A Haw j Youth, the theme o f which i s the search fo r a fa th er image. This m otivates a l l o f Arkady Dolgoruky's d r iv e s. ’ ’From my i childhood upward my dreams were a l l colored by him ,” he j I j says o f h is fa th er; 66 IM A. - PP« 460-461. 67 Ib id . . p. 461. 64 i . . . a l l hovered about him aa the f in a l g o a l. I don’t; know whether X hated him or loved him; but h is figu re dominated th e future and a l l my schemes o f l i f e . . . . I This man had hum iliated me and had not cared to know ' j me, w h ile a l l those years I had been chewing away at | I my dreams o f him. . . j jThe fa th er and son re la tio n sh ip i s confused w ith the ambi- - ; valence o f love and hatred. At tim es they embrace in re- i ! , c o n c ilia tio n , and at others argue v io le n tly and compete fo r I the love o f the same woman, K aterina Nikolaevna. N either I | Arkady nor th e reader can so lv e th e enigma o f the fa th e r ’s : (V ersilov) complex p erso n a lity . He seems to v a c illa te : between good and e v i l . Grimes are h inted a t in h is past ; and present l i f e ; yet by other h in ts and by kinder in te r p reta tio n s, th ese shadows seem to become good a c ts . Y ersilov re in fo r ces t h is ambiguity when he c o n fe sse s, You se e , I am m entally s p lit in two. . . . Yes, I am ! ' m entally s p lit in two and I am a fra id . I t i s as though; j a double emerged beside me; you y o u r se lf are i n t e l l i g en t, s e n s ib le , w hile the other in v a ria b ly wants to do . something absurd in your name . 69 I And he comments, I t has always been a m ystery, and I have m arvelled a thousand tim es a t the fa c u lty o f man . . . o f eh erlsh - ! ing in h is sou l h is l o f t i e s t id e a l sid e by side w ith the most ab ject b asen ess, and a l l q u ite s in c e r e ly . 70 ! Fyodor Dostoevsky, A Raw Youth. tr a n s. Constance i j Garnett (London, 1916), p. 147 j 69 I b id . , p. 503. I 70 Ibid.. P- 376. H © i s g r e a tly concerned with, the e x iste n c e o f God, and, as j i a S la v o p h ile, b e lie v e s th at Russia i s alone among n ation s ! ! 71 : in liv in g fo r an id e a l. And w hile he v is u a liz e s the j I p o s s ib ilit y of a world in which men love each other and nature w ith the r e a liz a tio n th at the earth i s th e ir only 72 and f in a l e x iste n c e , he adm its, in a con fession sim ila r ! to Ivan Karamazov’s , th at i t i s im possible fo r man to love , i h is neighbor. I Anyone who’ s not q uite stupid ca n 't liv e without des- 1 p isin g h im self, whether h e ’s honest or d ish on est—i t makes no d iffe r e n c e . To love on e’s neighbor and not d esp ise him—i s im p ossib le. I b e lie v e th at man has been created p h y sic a lly incapable o f lo v in g h is n eigh - / ; b or. 73 1 Dostoevsky, lik e Kafka, questioned the p u rity o f | in te n tio n s in the "clear con scien ce." Ivan Karamazov’ s and J Arkady’s re a l m otives were revealed to th e ir conscious | minds by means o f dreams. Arkady dreams that he i s going to use a hidden le t t e r fo r e v i l purposes, fo r h is revenge. Accursed dream! I swear th a t u n til th at loathsome 1 dream nothing lik e th at shameful idea had ever been in j my mind. . . . How was i t a l l t h is came to me so com- j p lete? I t was because I had the sou l of a spider! I t ■ t shows that a l l th is had long ago been hatching in my \ ! corrupt h eart, and la y la te n t in my d e s ir e s , but my 71 I b id *, p. 466. 72 Log. c i t . 73 Ibid-, P- 210. 66 ' waking heart was s t i l l ashamed, and my mind dared not con scio u sly p ictu re anything o f the s o r t. But in sleep the soul presented and la id bare a l l th at was hidden in the h eart, w ith utmost accuracy, in eomplet© p ictu re and prophetic form. ' 4 | Dostoevsky examined the p u rity o f in te n tio n s on the | part o f s o c ie ty as a group, as w e ll as the in d iv id u a l. i i L ise, in The Brothers Karamazov, t e l l s Alyosha: ". . . Your brother i s being tr ie d now fo r murdering h is fath er and every one lo v es h is having k ille d h is fa th e r ." "Loves h is having k ille d h is fa th er? ” i j "Yes, lo v es i t , every on© lo v e s itJ Everybody says ! i t ’s so aw ful, but s e c r e tly they sim ply love i t . I for on© love i t . ” "There i s some tru th in what you say about every one," said Alyosha s o f t l y . 76 And Ivan Karamazov t e l l s the c o u r t, W ho d oesn 't d esire h is fa th e r 's death? . . . M y fa th er J has been murdered and th ey pretend th ey are h o r r ifie d . . . . they keep up the sham w ith one another. LiarsJ They a l l d esire the death o f th e ir fa th e r s . 76 I l l . S1M M A B Y A M D C 0M C L T JSIO H S j A c r it ic a l examination o f in ten tio n s exposed g u ilt j in apparently innoeent a c tio n s. W hen conduct and s e n ti- j I ! ments were judged from a d iffe r e n t point o f view , th e s e l f - j punishment o f the Kafka hero demonstrated h is awareness o f j 74 I b ia *, P. 375. 75 The Brothers Karamazov, p. 618. 76 Ib id . . p. 728. hidden g u ilt . Hidden g u ilt was brought to the a tte n tio n ©f the Dostoevskian hero by means o f dreams. In ’ ’The Judg m ent,” Kafka seems to say: Do we know whom we love? H ow dare we guarantee the p u rity o f our in te n tio n s, or our love? Dostoevsky says i t through the dual emotions o f love and hatred fo r th e same o b jec t. Kafka demonstrated th at the ir r e d u c ib ility o f p oin ts o f view was a fundamental con d ition o f e x iste n c e . While I judgment from a d iffe r e n t plane made the hero aware o f h is i hidden g u ilt , no point o f view was e sta b lish e d as being superior or more correct than another; Kafka lim ited him- , s e l f to e sta b lish in g the d u a lity o f h is ch aracters’ p oin ts |o f view . Dostoevsky showed man’s sou l to be the b a ttle ground i : o f good and e v i l . The judgment o f conduct has fo r i t s b a sis the ’ ’tru th o f God.” Bin brought to the hero’s a tten tio n was based on t h i s . In co n tr a st, Kafka Indicated no b a sis fo r judgment or tru th . "M an cannot see beyond him s e l f . He i s in the dark. ” 77 77 Gustav Janouch, Conversations w ith Kafka, tra n s. Goronwy Rees (London, 1953), p. 95. C H A PT E R V T H E R A TIO N A L VERSUS T H E IRRATIONAL IN K A F K A / I . T H E R E A SO N OF T H E INDIVIDUAL VERSUS | T H E TRADITION O F SOCIETY i i The ir r a tio n a l supports the s o e ia l organ ization s in j Kafka’s t a le s . T raditions e x is t long a fte r purpose i s 1 v,- 1 l o s t . I t i s even questionable whether the tr a d itio n at i t s i conception was reason ab le. With Kafka in the p resen t, means in v a ria b ly become ends, and a once p o s itiv e l i f e - force now u s e le s s ly decorates the sk eleton o f tr a d itio n . j I The Tower o f B abel. "The C ity Coat o f Arms" i s the sto ry o f man’s e ffo r t to b u ild the Tower o f Babel. At f i r s t a l l the arrangements fo r b u ild in g the Tower ! o f Babel were ch aracterised by f a ir ly good order; 1 indeed the order was perhaps too p e r fe c t, too much ; i thought was taken fo r gu id es, in te r p r e te r s, accom modation fo r the workmen and roads o f communication, 1 ' as i f th ere were cen tu ries before one to do the work. j The a r c h ite c ts f e l t th at th e heaven-reaching tower could j i not be b u ilt too slow ly, sin ce i t s concept would never j vanish as long as there were men on earth . Therefore, they! troubled le s s w ith the tower than the con stru ction o f a j f - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - i 1 Franz Kafka, "The C ity Coat o f Arms," The Great I Wall of China. S to r ie s and R e fle c tio n s. tr a n s. W illa and Edwin Muir (New York, 1946), p. 245. c it y fo r the workmen. Since each n a tio n a lity wanted the f in e s t quarter fo r i t s e l f , th is led to bloody c o n f lic t s , and the Tower’s con stru ction had to be postponed u n til u n i-i I . ! j v ersa l peace could be declared. Soon the people were lo s t i ! in constant w arfare, pausing on ly long enough to em bellish i the c ity fu rth er. i : To th is must be added th at the second or th ird genera tio n had already recognized the se n se le ssn e ss o f b u ild - i ing a heaven-reaching tower; but by th at time everybody was too deeply in volved to leave the c i t y . 2 In to the ir r a tio n a l world o f h is s to r ie s Kafka j 1 p laces a ra tio n a l b ein g, who, compelled to seek th e tru th , or "the rig h t w ay,” must combat not on ly s o c ia l tr a d itio n I I and an ir r a tio n a l u n iverse, but the confusion derived from r ' ! h is own com plicated in te llig e n c e . L ionel T r illin g wrote: , i ' One way o f d escrib in g Freud's conception o f the mind i s ! to say th a t i t i s based upon the primacy o f the w i l l , and th at the organization o f the In tern al l i f e i s in the form, o fte n fa n ta s tic a lly parodic, o f a crim inal ! process in which the mind i s at once the crim in al, th e ; v ictim , the p o lic e , the judge, and th e execu tion er. 3 ; y - i Joseph K. i s never forced to stand t r i a l (The j f i j T r ia l). A fter the prelim inary exam ination, he i s l e f t at f i lib e r ty . I t i s he who pursues th e t r i a l , because he ! 2 I b id . . p. 247. j 3 L ionel T r illin g , " L ittle D orrit," Kenyon Review, j X V (Autumn, 1953), p . 581. . 70~ b e lie v e s in h is fundamental g u ilt . Although the a rrest i s i sudden and seems u n ju stifie d to him, he betrays a sense o f j 1 g u ilt as he becomes more absorbed w ith h is ca se. Successive! jencounters w ith the ir r a tio n a l tr a d itio n s o f the people I attached to the Court make him d istr u st h is in tu itio n and ' reason, u n til he com pletely succumbs to th e ir way o f th ink - I Jing. At th e end o f the novel h is w ill to r e s is t has been 'worn down so com pletely th at he a s s is t s in h is execu tion . i . As he walks to h is death between the two execu tion ers, he says to h im self, w ith te r r ib le iron y, . . the on ly th in g . fo r me to go on doing i s to keep my in te llig e n c e calm and 4 d iscrim in atin g to th e en d .” I t i s ju st h is in te llig e n c e , •p arad oxically assuming a l l the fu n ction s o f a crim inal j p rocess, that has forced him to pursue h is t r ia l and death. ! C a stle ) lo s e s a l l sense o f d iscrim in ation I under the pressure o f T illa g e tr a d itio n s . The lone man o f i reason, co n sta n tly questioning h im self, i s swayed from j i lo g ic under th e constant pressure o f s o c ia l tr a d itio n . K. | i d escrib es the T illa g e r s ' a ttitu d e toward the C astle and j |tr a d itio n when he t e l l s Olga, j i | Fear o f a u th o r itie s i s bom in you h ere, and i s fu rth er j suggested to you a l l your liv e s in the most various i i i • . < | 4 Franz Kafka, The T r ia l, tr a n s. W illa and Edwin Muir (New York, 1951), p. 284. 72J i ways and from every sid e , and yon you rselves help to j strengthen i t as much as p o s s ib le . ® To be apart i s to question and to create n eurotic i ; | ten sio n and g u i l t , w hile to conform i s to be able to th ink j I and act ir r a tio n a lly w ithout remorse. i The co lla p se o f in d iv id u a l reason in th e face ©f ir r a t io n a lit y i s evident in the scene in Amerika. in which I i | the Head W aiter and P orter o f th e Hotel O ccidental accuse I ) Karl Rossmann o f s te a lin g . The circu m stan tial evidence i j again st him i s so overwhelming th a t the innocent Karl ! begins to f e e l g u i l t . i The Great Wall o f China. The piecem eal fash ion in I i which the Great Wall o f China was constructed makes i t u se- I i j le s s as a defense again st the people o f the north, the pur pose fo r which i t was b u ilt . Wandering nomads tore down 1 newly fin ish ed se c tio n s o f the w all in deserted reg io n s, J i • and, according to legend, large gaps in th e w all were neverj f i l l e d in (T his, o f course, can never be v e r ifie d because o f the str u c tu r e d e x te n t). Even the purpose o f the w all seems vague to the b u ild e r s. W hy should th ey , the people ' 5 Franz Kafka, The C a stle . tra n s. W illa and Edwin ■ Muir (Hew York, 1947), p. 237. j 6 Franz Kafka, Amerika, tr a n s. Edwin Muir (New York, j 1946), p. 174. j I o f the south, h u ild a w all to p rotect them selves again st a j | people th ey have never seen? A people who liv e at such a I great d istance th at were they to rid e th e ir w ild horses at : f u l l speed fo r the duration o f a lif e t im e , th ey could not 1 j be reached. The b u ild ers do not attempt to solve th ese t j q u estion s. They conclude th a t the high command, whom th ey | have never seen , has w ille d something in exp ed ien t. A maxim s reads: "Try w ith a l l your might to comprehend the decrees ! o f the high command, but only up to a certa in p oin t; then 7 1 avoid fu rth er m e d ita tio n ." The narrator o f th e t a le g iv es an account o f th e ; l i t t l e in v e stig a tio n s he has made during h is life tim e , j ". . . 1 have discovered th a t we Chinese p o ssess certa in | fo lk and p o lit ic a l in s titu tio n s th at are unique in th e ir : q i ; c la r it y , oth ers unique in th e ir o b sc u r ity .” One o f the ! most obscure in s titu tio n s i s th at o f the empire i t s e l f . The people think only o f th e ir Emperor; not the present one, o f course; they would think about him i f th ey knew who ; he was or anything d e fin ite ly about him. The land i s so j v a s t, th at i f news about the Emperor or the Court should \ ever reach them, i t would have long ago become o b so le te . ------------ ; ------------ I 7 Franz Kafka, "The Great Wall o f China," in The i Great Wall o f China, p. 158. j 1 i 8 I b id . , P. 162. 73; Sine© they do not know which emperor re ig n s, and are even in doubt about the name o f th e ru lin g dynasty, th ey think o f departed emperors. The people*s only knowledge o f the Im perial Court i s o f i t s perpetual sta te o f corruption and stagn ation . 19hy, then, don’t the c it iz e n s , who spend th e ir I days dreaming about the Gourt and the Empire, do something i about th e ir ignorance o f i t , and attempt to r a is e i t out of; I i t s stagnancy? The narrator admits that the p eo p le's ' apathy i s c e r ta in ly no v ir tu e . Yet t h is weakness i s i t s i g r e a te st u nifyin g in flu e n c e. I t i s . . . the very ground on which we l i v e . To se t about : e sta b lish in g a fundamental d efect here would mean I undermining not on ly our con scien ces, but, what i s fa r | worse, our f e e t . And fo r th at reason I s h a ll not pro ceed any fu rth er at t h is stage w ith my enquiry in to I th ese q u e stio n s. 9 ! In th e " In vestigation s o f a Dog," however, the Dog i ! does not give up h is enquiry in to the b a sic questions o f e x iste n c e . In v e stig a tio n s o f a Dog. The Dog con sid ers h im self i i to be "a somewhat co ld , reserved , shy and c a lc u la tin g , but j a l l th in gs considered normal enough dog."1* * He liv e s i t is o la te d from h is fe llo w s , | 9 I b id . . p. 173. 10 Franz Kafka, " In v estig a tio n s o f a Dog," in The Great Wall o f China, p. 4. . . . s o lita r y and withdrawn, w ith nothing to occupy me save my h opeless l i t t l e in v e s tig a tio n s . . . . The others tr e a t me w ith resp ect but do not understand my way o f l i f e ; y et they bear me no grudge. . . .11 The Bog has spent h is l i f e contem plating the b asic problems o f dog e x iste n c e . While th e ir laws and in s t it u - I j tio n s are based on th e longing o f communal im pulse, the warm comfort o f being togeth er, no creatu res liv e in such wide d isp ersion as dogs. They, whose one d esire i s to s tic k to g eth er, are compelled to liv e separated by strange i and incom prehensible voca tio n s, "holding firm ly to laws I th at are not those o f the dog w orld, but are a c tu a lly d i- 12 rected again st i t . " How b a fflin g th ese q uestions are, questions on which I one would p refer not to touch—I understand th a t stand point to o , even b e tte r than my own— and yet questions ; to which I have com pletely c a p itu la te d . W hy do I not | do as the oth ers: liv e in harmony w ith my people and i accept in sile n c e whatever d istu rb s the harmony ig - 1 noring i t as a sm all error in the great account, always keeping in mind the th in g s th at bind us h app ily to geth er, not those th a t drive us again and again, a l though by sheer fo r c e , out o f the s o c ia l circle?^® The Dog d escrib es the in cid en t o f h is youth, meetingj the seven m usical dogs, th at spurred him in h is search fo r | , meaning. These dogs f i r s t appeared to be dancing calm ly, j Loc. c i t . 12 Ib id . . pp. 6 -7 . 13 I M I - » P- 7 * but on c lo s e r in sp ectio n he observed th at . . . i t was not so mueh cooln ess as the most extreme 1 j ten sio n th a t ch aracterised th e ir performance; th ese , ; lim bs apparently so sure in th e ir movements quivered at every step w ith a perpetual apprehensive tw itch - 1 j in g . 14 i 1 The young dog tr ie d to warn them th at they were breaking {the "law o f dogs" by dancing on th e ir hind le g s and expos- i Ing them selves. But they did not l i s t e n , and he was knocked f l a t by the power o f the accompanying music* He j attempted to excuse what he had seen: . . i n the course I i i 'o f a long l i f e one encounters a l l so r ts o f th in g s which, taken from th e ir context and seen through the eyes o f a c h ild , might w e ll seem fa r more a s t o n i s h i n g , ". . . ; Many th in gs th at are disposed o f in the minds o f grown-ups 1 6 I are not yet s e ttle d in th e minds o f the young" (Kafka i I i s tr e s s e s here the clea r v isio n th at precedes conform ist i ! "education"; se e , he sa y s, "M y education has done me great j harm. . . . j I The young dog rushed about t e llin g oth ers h is j ! i I 14 I b id ., pp. 12-13. i ...... i 15 I b id ;. P* 16, 16 I b id ., p. 18. 17 Franz Kafka, The D iaries o f Franz Kafka. 1910- I 1913, ed. Max Brod, tr a n s. Joseph Kresh (New York, 1948), ! pp. 14-22. ! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------1 i 76' i j exp erien ce, tr y in g to in te r e s t them in h is in v e stig a tio n s; i 1 I hat the other dogs, conditioned to ir r a t io n a lit y in th e ir I i 1 world, had learned to accept i t as "normal." Xfcdaunted by ; ! j r e je c tio n , he resolved to continue, i ] . . . so th at I might be l e f t fr e e again to regard the ordinary, calm, happy way o f l i f e o f every day: ju st 1 so have I , though w ith le s s c h ild ish means . . . ; laboured in the years sin ee and go on labouring to - j day. 18 ! Although h is quest began w ith the m usical dogs, he does not i blame th at experience as th e cause o f h is search; ". . . i t 1 9 i s my innate d isp o sitio n th at has driven me on. . . , n l (much lik e the hunger a r t is t , whose m ystical fa stin g seems , to be th e sig n o f a lack o f something. Be f a s t s on ly be- i cause he could fin d no food th at p leased him; i f he had, he i j would have gorged h im self lik e a l l the r e s t ) , j The Dog's next enquiry was: upon what does the ca- i 1 ' nine race nourish it s e l f ? i Now t h is i s , i f you lik e , by no means a simple ques- ! tio n , o f course; i t has occupied us sin ee the dawn o f tim e. I t i s the c h ie f object of a l l our m editation , j cou n tless ob servation s and essays and views on th is j subject have been published, i t has grown in to a pro- i vince o f knowledge which in i t s prodigious compass i s j j not on ly beyond th e comprehension o f any sin g le { I sch o la r, but o f a l l our sch olars c o lle c t iv e ly , a bur- ■ i den which cannot be borne except by the whole of the i 18 Kafka, " In v estig a tio n s o f a Dog," in The Great Wall o f China, p. 19. 19 Loc. e i t . 7 7 dog community, and even then w ith d if f ic u lt y and not : q uite in i t s t o t a lit y ; fo r i t ever and again crumbles away lik e a n eglected a n cestra l in h eritan ce and must | la b o rio u sly be r e h a b ilita te d anew. . . . 20 The v a st amount o f energy spent in con stru ctin g a I ; body o f knowledge around t h is b a sic question i s u s e le s s ; i t l on ly lead s them farth er away from the tru th . They are j blinded to the fa c t th at th e food comes from mem. j The Dog ap ologizes fo r h is search. "Quite h on estly jI have no ambition to be p e c u lia r , or to pose as being in | ! th e r ig h t again st the m ajority; I am only to© happy when I ! ; can agree w ith my comrades. . . . 21 He f e e ls no superior it y ; on ly lo n e lin e s s and is o la t io n . ! His ob servation s t e l l him th a t the earth , I * i ! . . . when i t i s watered and scratched according to the I r u le s o f sc ie n c e , extrudes nourishment, and moreover in I such q u a lity , in such abundance, in such ways, in such i p la c e s, at such hours, as the laws p a r tia lly or com- I p le te ly e sta b lish e d by scien ce demand. X accept a l l t h is ; my q u estion , however, i s th e follow in g: "Whence , does the earth procure t h is food?" A question which people in general pretend not to understand, and to which the b est answer they can g iv e is : "If you haven't! enough to e a t, w e 'll give you some o f ou rs." 22 ; I He co n fesses th at a l l he cares about, when he asks I th e question: "Whence does the earth procure t h is food?" i s j 20 I b id . . pp. BO-21. 21 I b id ., p. 22. 22 Ib id . . pp. 22-23. the race o f dogs. He i s not troub led , fo r example, about the laborers o f the earth . "Ibr what i s there a c tu a lly except our own sp ecies?* he a sk s. "To whom but i t can one appeal in th e wide and empty world? M l knowledge, the | t o t a l i t y o f a l l questions and a l l answers, i s contained in I 1 93 ! the dog." i ! The Dog i s tormented because h is fe llo w s are s ile n t I | on c r u c ia l q u estio n s. His hope has been not only to pose , th ese q u estion s, but to answer them. He b e lie v e s: The great choir o f dogdom w ill jo in in as i f i t had been w a itin g fo r you. Then you w ill have c la r it y , tr u th , avowal, as much of them as you d e sir e . The roof o f t h is wretched l i f e , o f which you say so many hard th in g s, w ill burst open, and a l l o f u s, shoulder to shoulder, w ill ascend in to the lo f t y realm o f freedom. And i f we should not achieve th a t f in a l consuramation, i f th in gs should become worse than b efo re, i f the whole tru th should be more unsupportable than th e h a lf, i f i t should be proved th at the s ile n t are in th e rig h t as the guardians o f e x iste n c e , i f the fa in t hope th at we s t i l l p o ssess should give way to complete h o p elessn ess, the attempt i s s t i l l worth the t r i a l , sin ce you do not ; d esire to liv e as you are com pelled to l i v e . 34 In h is old age, the Dog i s s i l e n t , as are the j o th ers, from fe a r o f r e s is t in g h is own q u estio n s. He no i j longer hopes fo r answers. J Can I contemplate the foundations o f our e x iste n c e , j d ivin e th e ir profu n dity, watch th e labour o f th e ir 83 Ibid.. P. 26. 24 Ibid., p. 28. 79' con stru ction , th at dark labour, and expect a l l t h is to ' be forsak en , n eg lected , undone, sim ply because I ask a 1 question? Ho, th a t I tr u ly expect no lo n g e r .2® j R eferring to h is is o la te d co llea g u es who seek ! I ' i j answers to the cr u c ia l q u estio n s, he says, i I W e are the dogs who are crushed by s ile n c e , who long to break through i t , l i t e r a l l y to g et a breath o f fresh I a ir ; th e oth ers seem to th r iv e on s ile n c e : tr u e , th at ; i s on ly so in appearance, as in th e ease o f the m usical | dogs, who o ste n sib ly were q uite calm when th ey played, | but in r e a lit y were in a s ta te o f in ten se excitem ent; j n ev erth eless the illu s io n i s very stron g, one t r ie s to j make a breach in i t , but1 i t mocks every attem pt. 26 | The Bog turns h is thoughts to e a r lie r g en era tio n s, : n oting the progress in knowledge made by the dog community : through the a g es. He admits th a t th e advance o f knowledge I i s ir r e s is t ib le ; i t i s progressing at an a ccelera tin g I I speed. But i s there any v ir tu e in t h i s , he wonders? "It j > I i s as i f one were to p raise some one because w ith the years , 1 he grows o ld er, and in consequence comes nearer and nearer j ! t© death w ith in creasin g speed." 27 In sp ite o f in crea sin g : knowledge, dogdom i s on the d e c lin e . I t i s not th at | e a r lie r gen erations were e s s e n t ia lly b e tte r ; th ey "were ! on ly younger.” In e a r lie r days, the e d ific e o f dogdom was i s t i l l lo o s e ly pat togeth er; i 25 Ib id . , p. 39. | 26 I b id . . p. 41. ; i 27 I b id . . p. 45. j I . . . the tru e Word eould s t i l l have Intervened, plan- i ning or replanning th e stru ctu re, changing i t at w i l l , transform ing i t in to i t s op p osite; and the Word was ( th ere, was very near at le a s t , on th e tip o f every- ! body’s tongue, and one might have h it upon i t . 28 i The present generation i s l o s t , but i t i s le s s a t fa u lt I I than e a r lie r ones. I can understand th e h e s ita tio n o f my gen eration , in deed i t i s no lon ger mere h e sita tio n ; i t i s the thousandth fo r g e ttin g o f a dream dreamt a thousand tim es and forgotten a thousand tim es; and who can damn us m erely fo r fo r g e ttin g fo r the thousandth time? . . . i Well fo r us th at i t was not we who had to take the ! g u ilt upon u s, th at in stead we can hasten in almost ■ g u ilt le s s sile n c e towards death in a world darkened by i o th er s. When our f i r s t fa th ers strayed th ey had doubt le s s sca rcely any n otion that th e ir aberration was to be an en d less one, th ey could s t i l l see the cr o ss roads, i t seemed an easy m atter to turn back whenever 1 th ey p leased . . . . 29 I i The Dog con siders th e p o s s ib ilit y th at a l l o f dogdom ! might a lso seek, but th at i t s sile n c e i s reasonable. i i What i s th ere to prevent me from b e lie v in g th a t every one i s my co llea g u e, in stea d o f thinking th a t I have on ly one or two fello w -en q u irers—lo s t and fo rgotten along w ith th e ir p e tty achievem ents, so th a t I can never reach them by any road through th e darkness o f ages or the confused throng o f th e present: why not b eliev e that a l l dogs from the beginning o f time have been my c o lle a g u e s, a l l d ilig e n t in th e ir own way, a l l I u n su ccessfu l in th e ir own way, a l l s ile n t or f a ls e ly ! garrulous in th e ir own way, as h op eless research i s apt 1 j to make one? But in th a t case I need not have severed i m yself from my fe llo w s at a l l , I could have remained ! q u ie tly among the o th er s, I had no need to fig h t my way; 28 Ib id . , p. 46. 29 I b id . , p. 47. 81 out lik e a stubborn ch ild through th e closed ranks o f i th e grown-ups, who indeed wanted as much as I to fin d j a way ou t, and who seemed incom prehensible to me simply' because o f th e ir knowledge, whieh to ld them th at nobody could ever eseape and th at i t was stu p id to use f o r c e . 30 Perhaps h is fe llo w s are s ile n t through th e knowledge! I th at there i s "no way o u t.” ! At the end o f the t a le , the Dog recounts h is la s t i | experim ent. Again he has used the em pirical method; he ! ! t r ie s fa s tin g in a lo n e ly f i e l d , in an attempt to d iscover j where th e earth g e ts i t s food. The experiment i s un- I su c c e ssfu l, the fle s h too weak. He i s discovered in the f ie ld by a hunting dog {one o f D ostoevsky’s ’’unthinking men i o f a ctio n " ; see Motes from Underground) . The thinking dog’s attempt to reason w ith the hunting dog, to make him i question t h i s —a c tio n s, v o ca tio n , and the b a sis o f h is j j e x iste n c e —i s u n su ccessfu l. The hunting dog d rives him j I from the f i e l d w ith h is m usic. This sto ry underlines the su ggestion that tr u th , | j perhaps once known, has long sin ce been fo rg o tten . Perhaps j i ! the fo r g e ttin g was on ly an attempt to o b lite r a te th e t e r - \ i ! r ib le tru th th a t there i s "no way out"; th at l i f e has no j ! meaning. 1 30 Ibid., pp. 50-51 82 T h© e s s e n tia l fa c t o f the dog’ s w orld, i t s domesti catio n and dependence upon man, i s unrecognized. I t Mas e ith e r been forgotten in the passage of tim e, or i t has never been d iscovered. The great body o f knowledge th at i s b u ilt around the elem ental question: where does th e earth get i t s food, on ly lea d s the dogs fu rth er from the tru th , and i s perhaps on ly an attempt to evade the obvious answer. Were th e answer found, however, i t could not bring freedom, ! but m erely more problems to be so lv ed . Freedom i s a b itte r ( l g ib e. Man, a le v e l higher in the scheme o f th in g s, sees , s lig h t ly fu rth er. But what lurks beyond h is lim ite d grasp, ! o f which he catch es on ly fa in t glim pses? < i I "Accident i s the name one g iv e s to the coincidence o f j ev en ts, o f which one does not know the cau sa tio n . But there i s no world w ithout cau sation . Therefore in the world th ere are no a cc id en ts, but on ly h ere," Kafka I touched h is forehead w ith h is l e f t hand. "Accidents j on ly e x is t in our heads, in our lim ited p ercep tion s. They are th e r e fle c tio n o f the lim its o f our knowledge. The stru ggle again st chance i s always a stru g g le again st o u rselv es, which we can never e n tir e ly win." The lone in v e stig a to r f e e ls pangs o f g u ilt ; perhaps , i h is search in to the meaning o f th in gs i s wrong. Perhaps i : j s o c ie ty i s rig h t not to q u estion , to continue in i t s mean- j in g le s s tr a d itio n s . | I Kafka’s choice o f the insane ("The Judgment”) , the | I ^ Gustav Janouch, C onversations w ith Kafka, tr a n s. I Goronwy Rees (London, 1953), p. 55. I ap© ("A Report to an Academy”) , the rodent and In sect ("The; i Burrow,” "The M etamorphosis,” "Josephine the Singer”) in d i-; ca tes th a t man e x is t s on a no le s s lim ited le v e l than the ; j In sect or animal; and communicates a strong sense o f the ! inconsequence o f human triumph. The accumulation o f know- f i j ledge and the search fo r tru th are as f u t il e in man as dog. i | I I . T H E IMPOSSIBILITY OF FINDING - T H E T R U T H i i | Kafka presented numerous symbols o f the im possi- j | b i l i t y o f man's ever fin d in g the tr u th . While h is heroes i were obsessed w ith a fe e lin g o f g u ilt fo r not f u l f i l l i n g i th e ir committed g o a ls, th ey were a lso aware o f th e f u t i l i t y i o f th e ir q u ests. This sense i s expressed in h is aphorism; : There i s a g o a l, but no way; what we c a ll th e way i s on ly w avering.3s The tru th may be w a itin g , as in the fa b le "Before 33 the Law," o r i t even may be sent to man, as in the I 34 i parable "An Im perial Message," but the chances o f h is re- i j | ceivin g or fin d in g i t are remote. The parable "An Im perial Message” t e l l s the story of- i 32 Great Wall o f China, p. 285. 33 From The T r ia l. pp. 268-271. i 34 From "The Great Wall o f C hina,” The Great Wall o f ! China, pp. 165-167. the Emperor who, from h is deathbed, has sea t "you," the ! meanest o f h is su b jects, a message fo r you aloE e. The ! m essenger, to whom he whispered the m essage, s e ts on h is ! ! journey, pushing h is powerful arms through the dense crowd ' o f sp ectators assembled fo r the Emperor’s death. But th e t ! m u ltitu des through which he must pass are e n d le ss. He must | waste h is strength in pushing through. He i s s t i l l making i j h is way through the chambers o f the innermost p alace; he ! w ill never reach th e ir end; and even succeeding, he w ill I ; have to fig h t h is way down the s t a ir s ; the courts must s t i l l be crossed; then the seeond and outer p alace, and i more s t a ir s , more co u rts. I f f in a lly he were to burst i | through the outermost gate (and t h is i s mere fa n ta s y ), the I I Im perial C ap ital, th e center o f the world, would l i e before j him, crammed to overflow ing w ith more humanity. "No one I | can force a way through th a t, le a s t o f a l l w ith a message from a dead man.—But you s i t by your window and dream i t 35 a l l tr u e , when evening f a l ls ." The parable "The Next V illage" exp resses the f u t i- i l i t y o f th e q uest. L ife i s not long enough fo r even the ! i sim p lest o f th in g s, mueh le s s fo r fin d in g tru th . M y grandfather used to say: "Life i s astoundingly , sh ort. To me, looking back over i t , l i f e seems so j < — r — i — ■ ■ ■ — ■ » m i 35 Ib id . . p. 167. * ...................................- ......................................... I I foreshortened, th at I sca r cely understand, fo r in sta n c e, j how a young man can decide to rid e over to th e next j ! v illa g e w ithout heing a fra id th a t—not to mention J | a ccid en ts—even the span o f a normal happy l i f e may | f a l l fa r short o f the tim e needed fo r such a jour- | ney. 1,36 I The parable ”Give I t Upi” con tain s the elem ents o f i urgency, fe a r , those o f th e dream w orld, th a t Kafka’s I ,n ovels ex p re ss. | I t was very ea rly in th e morning, th e s tr e e ts clean and I d eserted , I was on my way to the railro a d s ta tio n . I Upon comparing my watch w ith a clock tower I n oticed th a t i t was much la t e r than I had thought. I would I have to make great h a ste . The panic in to which th is d iscovery threw me made me uncertain o f th e way, I was not yet q uite fa m ilia r w ith h is c it y , fo r tu n a te ly there whs a policeman nearby, I ran to him and b r e a th le ssly asked the way. He sm iled and said: ’ ’From me you wish to learn the way?” ”Y es,” I sa id , ”fo r I cannot fin d i i t m y s e lf.” "Give i t up, give i t u p ,” he sa id , and i turned away ab ru ptly, as people do when they want to j be alone w ith th e ir la u g h ter. 37 ; The words o f the policeman express the f u t i l i t y o f i i the q uest. The tragedy of th e parable, the error o f th e I seeker, begins even before he lo s t h is way; i t begins when i he sta r te d . I t exp resses the same fe e lin g o f overwhelming ! d estin y as the la s t lin e s o f ”A Country Doctor” : ! I 3® Franz Kafka, The Penal Colony. S to r ie s and Short i P ie c e s , tra n s. W illa and Kdwin Muir (New York, 1948), ip . 158. ! 37 Franz Kafka, ”Gibs AufJ” Besehreibung ein es KamPfes (New York, 1947); tr a n s. H. Lenz, The Kafka Prob- llem , ed. Angel F lores (New York, 1946), p. 117. 86 Betrayed! Betrayed! A f a ls e alarm on the n ig h t-b e ll i once an sw ered--it cannot be made good, not e v e r .3® i The fe e lin g o f being lo s t in en d less corrid ors w hile attem pting to f u l f i l l one’s d estin y i s repeated in Kafka’ s ! comments on Abraham’s s a c r ific e : I could think o f another kind o f Abraham who . . . would be ready a t once, w ith th e subservience o f a w a ite r , to f u l f i l l the demand o f th e s a c r if ic e , and who would n ev erth eless be unable to make i t come o f f , because he could not get away from home. . . . Another Abraham, one who in ten ds to perform a thoroughly pro per s a c r if ic e , and in general has the rig h t in s tin c t fo r th e whole th in g , cannot b e lie v e th a t he i s the one who i s meant. . . . He fe a rs th a t he may rid e out w ith h is son as Abraham, but on th e way become metamorphosed in to Don Q uixote.3* Kafka’s heroes in v a ria b ly begin th e ir quest w ith lo g ic and reason, then become h o p e le ssly involved in t i l t ing w indm ills o f th e ir own crea tio n . Their strength f a i l s ; them at c r u c ia l moments. K. ( The C a stle ) i s co n sta n tly ( such a victim : "The e ffo r t which i t co st him m erely to keep; going made him lo s e con trol o f h is thoughts. In stead o f 40 remaining fix ed on th e ir goal th ey str a y e d .” j i Their a tte n tio n i s co n sta n tly d istra cted from the ! i g o a l. C ontinually q uestioning th e ir every a ctio n , w ith no 1 38 The Penal Colony, p. 143. From a l e t t e r to h is frien d K lopstock; c ite d by Egon V ie tta , ’ ’The Fundamental R ev o lu tio n ,” tra n s. Lienhard Bergel and F. ffood, The Kafka Problem, pp. 339-340. Franz Kafka, The Castle, p. 38. absolute se t o f r u les to fo llo w , th ey are a t th e mercy o f ; every stra y su ggestion . i i I I A Report to an Academy. The f u t i l i t y o f the q u est, ! and man’s lim ited v is io n are re-emphasized in ”A Report to an Academy.” The ta le i s in the form o f an ape’ s report to a learned Academy. He, through "an e ffo r t which up t i l l now has never been repeated . . . managed to reach the c u ltu r a l le v e l o f an average European. 1,41 The ape reports ■ th at in h is days o f c a p tiv ity in a tin y cage aboard a fr e ig h te r , he was obsessed w ith the d esire to fin d "a way o u t .” Freedom, he i n s i s t s , was not what he wanted. His contact w ith man soon taught him th is was im p ossib le. Had he d esired freedom, he should have preferred drowning to the way th at suggested i t s e l f in th e heavy fa c e s o f the ! s a ilo r s he saw around him. "I fea r th at perhaps you do notj quite understand what I mean by ’way o u t,* ” he ex p la in s. i I use th e exp ression in i t s f u lle s t and most popular , I sen se. I d e lib e r a te ly do not use the word ”freedom .” j ! I do not mean the spacious fe e lin g o f freedom on a l l J s id e s . As an ape, perhaps, I knew th a t, and I have , i met men who yearn for i t . But fo r my part I d esired ! ! such freedom n eith er then nor now. In passing: may I say th at a l l too o fte n men are betrayed by freedom. 48 41 Franz Kafka, ”A Report to an Academy,” The Penal j Polony, p. 183. j i 4 2 I f e i a . . 1 7 7 . j The ape in d ic ts as vain any stru g g le fo r freedom. Im itatin g human beings held no a ttr a c tio n fo r him; he ! i straggled to reach the human le v e l on ly because th ere was > i no oth er "way o u t .” i His report ends w ith a note o f p rid e. "I have I 1 achieved what I s e t out to ach ieve. But do not t e l l me ; th at i t was not worth the tr o u b le. ”43 He has achieved a | ”way o u t” o f h is cage. That i s a l l he wanted. i j The Burrow. "The Burrow” i s the ta le o f an is o la te d , burrowing anim al, who attem pts to so lv e the problems i o f e x iste n c e , g iv in g lo n e ly b a ttle w ith the lim ited to o ls at hand. In h is youth, the animal began con stru ction o f a ; burrow fo r a place o f repose and s a fe ty . During the long period o f co n stru ctio n , however, sig h t o f t h is goal was l j l o s t , and the burrow, a beloved o b je c t, became an end. F orgetting h im self, he began to c a lc u la te means o f p ro tect ing the burrow. In lo n e lin e ss and fe a r , he begins to hear > i r e a l or imagined w h istlin g n o ise s from h is underground tu n n els. The contem plation o f th e ir source prompts exag- i ; ; gerated and n eu rotic fe a r s. He im agines th at an unknown m onster, burrowing in the earth , i s track in g him down. H is \ i i l i f e o f t o i l , h is scramble fo r se c u r ity , and h is attempt t o ; ! 43 Ibid.. p. 184. 89 ' i con stru ct a world o f h is own creation have been f u t i l e . He : i i s defeated by fea r o f the unknown. j I I I . H U M A N SOLITUDE A N D A W A R E N E SS 1 In the short p iece "O n th e Tram” the theme o f in d i- j vid u al in se c u r ity in so c ie ty and the world p resents i t s e l f . | The tru th fu l human b eing, deeply concerned w ith e x is t e n t ia l , i | problems, i s shocked by the unawareness o f h is fe llo w pas- ; sengers on the b r ie f journey through l i f e . ”1 stand on the ! , platform o f the tram and am com pletely unsure o f my fo o tin g , in th is world, in t h is town, in my fa m ily ,” the passenger b eg in s. Not even c a su a lly could I in d ica te any claim s th a t I | might r ig h tly advance in any d ir e c tio n . I am u tte r ly unable to defend th e fa c t th at I am standing on t h is i platform , hanging on to t h is stra p , le t t in g m yself be carried along by th is ca r, th a t people get out o f the ! e a r 's way or walk q u ie tly along or re la x in fron t o f ; i shop windows. I t is tr u e , no one demands a j u s t i f i e s - i tio n from me, but that makes no d iffe r e n c e . 44 Now a g ir l g e ts on the tram. "She i s dressed in b lack , the j i p le a ts o f her s k ir t hang almost s t i l l . . . . ” She stands : I lik e th a t, not in the le a s t a r id d le to h e r s e lf , content in ; i i having no concern at a l l w ith the question of her e x iste n c e . J A stonished, the passenger ask s, "How i s i t th at she i s not : 44 Franz Kafka, "On the Tram," The Penal Colony. p. 35. amazed at h e r s e lf, th at she keeps her l ip s clo sed and makesi 45 no such remark?” j A Hanger A r t is t . The p ub lic*s lack o f understanding , i and the cage symbol present the theme o f so litu d e in "A Hunger A r t is t .” i At one tim e, the public showed a l i v e l y in te r e s t in |th e hunger a r t i s t . "Everybody wanted to see him at le a s t i jonce a day; there were people who bought season t ic k e t s fo r > j th e la s t few days and sat from morning t i l l n igh t in front 46 o f h is sm all barred eage." But the art was incom pletely understood, even by the i n it i a t e s . They did not understand j th at p ro fessio n a l honor forbade him to swallow the sm allest m orsel o f food during h is f a s t . So the watchers (u su a lly b u tch ers), whom the public se le c te d to watch th e hunger a r t is t day and n ig h t, turned th e ir backs on h is cage in order to give him th e ehanoe o f sneaking refreshm ent. He i I could do nothing to a lla y the su sp icion s o f the public on I ! t h is score. He "was th erefore bound to be th e so le sp ecta- | 47 ! to r o f h is own fa s t." He was most angered, however, i : I i i 45 Ib id . , p. 36. j 46 Franz Kafka, "A Hunger A r tist," The Penal Colony. ; pp. 243^344. 47 Ib id . , p. 246. 91 through h is f a s t s ’ being r e s tr ic te d to fo r ty days. He was capable o f and longed to perform much longer f a s t s , but the | in te r e s t o f th e public would wane. So a t the end o f fo r ty | d a y s,-h is manager organized a great ce le b r a tio n , in which j j he was led from h is cage, weak and shaking, not from fa s t - l in g , but angry fo r the in terru p tion . In tim e, the p ublic lo s t in t e r e s t , and the a r t is t ■ i j ended h is career in a d ir ty circ u s cage next to the menag~ ie r ie . Here he was soon fo r g o tten , even by th e overseer o f I ! t the c ir c u s. The n o tice board t e llin g the number o f fa s t days achieved was no longer changed; and f in a lly , even the a r t is t no longer counted them. At h is death, he was d is- 'covered only by chance, and q u ick ly replaced by a h ealth y |panther. Here th ere i s nothing p o e tic . The " lo n elin ess o f the a r tis t" has not been d ea lt w ith in th e usual romantic j I manner. (There i s none o f the p ublic h o s t i l it y found in j the poem L’A lb atros. fo r example—B aud elaire’s symbol fo r | I ! ,th e tormented a r t is t . The s a ilo r s amused them selves by I ' j | capturing the b ird , so b e a u tifu l in the a ir , mocking i t s j clumsy movements in c a p tiv ity , and to rtu rin g i t . ) The | public i s not h o s tile to the hunger a r t is t . I t i s sim ply j I — . . . . . . . . . . . . - - i Claude-Edmonde Magny, "The O bjective D epietion o f Absurdity," tr a n s. Angel F lo r e s. The Kafka Problem, p. 93. unable to understand, and f in a lly , in d iffe r e n t. The I I j a r t i s t ’s so litu d e does not in d ic a te su p e r io r ity . Kafka j j seems to say, rath er, th at the in sa tia b le hunger w ith which j j the m ystic or a r t is t i s possessed perhaps on ly sig n a ls some la ck , something u n s a tis fia b le . For when the attendants i d iscover the fo rg o tten hunger a r t i s t , a fte r poking through j the d ir ty straw o f h is cage, he asks th e ir fo rg iv en ess w ith; ! h is dying breath: ’’Forgive me, everybody,” whispered the hunger a r t is t . . . . ”1 always wanted you to admire my fa s tin g . . . ”W e do admire i t , ” sa id the overseer, a ffa b ly . ”But you shouldn’t admire i t , ” said the hunger a r t i s t . . . . "Because I have to f a s t , I can’t help i t . . . . 1 couldn’t fin d the food I lik e d . I f I had found i t , j b e lie v e me, I should have made no fu ss and stu ffe d my s e l f lik e you or anyone e l s e . ”49 i i The young panther i s im m ediately popular with th e p u b lic. ! R adiating l i f e and freedom, he seems to s a t is f y some inner j need, which the hunger a r t is t fa ile d to do. ’’Even the most ! in s e n s itiv e f e l t i t refresh in g to see th is w ild creature leap in g around the cage that had so long been d reary.” His j t noble body and jaws seem charged w ith freedom. 1 1 And the joy o f l i f e streamed w ith such ardent p assion ; | from h is th roat th at fo r th e onlookers i t was not easy j ' to stand th e shock o f i t . But they braced them selves, i crowded round th e cage, and did not want ever to move j away. 49 ”A Hunger A r t is t ,” p. 253. 50 Ib id . . pp. 255-256. 93 Here, as in "The In v e stig a tio n s o f a Dog," the f e e l- ; ing i s expressed th a t perhaps the seeker i s in the wrong, j th at so c ie ty needs the illu s io n o f the v i r i l e , h ealth y, andj i fr e e . This conception o f the a r t is t can be seen in the f I d ia r ie s and le t t e r s o f Kafka, f i l l e d w ith se lf-d o u b t, fe a r , and g u ilt fe e lin g s : You d escribe the poet as a great and wonderful man | whose fe e t are on the ground, w hile h is head disappears; in th e clou d s. Of course, th at i s a p e r fe c tly ordinary , image drawn w ith in the in t e lle c t u a l framework o f lower- 1 m id d le-cla ss convention. I t i s an illu s io n based on wish fu lfillm e n t, which has nothing in common w ith r e a lit y . In f a c t , th e poet i s always much sm aller and weaker than the s o c ia l average. Therefore he f e e ls the burden o f ea r th ly ex isten ce much more in te n s e ly and stron gly than other men. For him p erso n a lly h is song i s only a scream. Art fo r the a r t is t i s on ly su ffe r in g , through which he r e le a se s h im self fo r fu rth er su ffe r in g . He i s not a g ia n t, but on ly a more or l e f f j b r ig h tly plumaged b ird in the cage o f h is e x is te n c e . 51 1 Speaking o f Crime and Punishment and Hamlet. Kafka i ; ' described poetry as an exp ed ition in search o f the tru th , | and l i f e without tru th im possible: I I s there a greater mystery than th e truth? Poetry i s always an exp ed ition in search o f the tru th . . . . Truth i s what every man needs in order to l i v e , but canj i obtain or purchase from no one. Kaeh man must repro- i I duce i t for h im self from w ith in , otherw ise he must i p erish . L ife w ithout truth i s not p o ss ib le . Truth i s . \ perhaps l i f e i t s e l f . 52 i I His own seareh fo r tru th led him in to h opeless 51 Janouch, Conversations with Kafka, p. 8 8 . , 52 ib id . . p. 94. | | pessimism; and he regarded h is pessim ism as a s in ( "Mis- i understanding i s a p ro tectio n again st my wicked pessim ism , ' ! 53 ^ : which . . . i s a s in ” ) . He f e l t compelled to search fo r i j tru th ( "without which l i f e i s not p o s s ib le ”) , and su ffered | g u ilt fo r th e resu lta n t pessim ism . i Kafka’s conception o f th e a r t is t re su lte d p a r tia lly from the g u ilt and In secu rity consequent to r e b e llio n ag ain st s o c ia l tr a d itio n . S elf-d ou b t in the s e n s itiv e ! in d iv id u a l i s created by the pressure o f s o c ie ty from w ith out and by the in e v ita b ly embedded seed o f s o c ia l tr a d itio n w ith in . In ad d itio n , there i s the sense o f g u ilt caused by / ; fa ilu r e to achieve th e im possible goals to which he f e e l s > committed, and the sense th at the search may be f u t i l e . He I doubts the purpose and v a lid it y o f a r t. Kafka’s w ritin g i s ' f i l l e d w ith t h is fea r and doubt, wrote Arthur K o estler. ! I Cxroup-mimicry i s a r e a l fo rce; to r e s is t i t means | g e ttin g out o f tune w ith one’ s s o c ia l environment, 1 cr ea tes n eu rotic ten sio n s and fe e lin g s o f g u i lt . One might in theory be a thousand tim es in the r ig h t, and j yet f e e l g u ilty fo r b u ttin g again st the accepted wrong,| sanctioned by tr a d itio n whose ro o ts have sprouted in j one’s own unconscious s e l f . To quarrel w ith so c ie ty i means to quarrel w ith i t s p ro jectio n s in one’ s s e l f , and produces the c la s s ic a l n eu rotic s p li t p a ttern s. | Oedipus situ a tio n and in f e r io r it y complex, tim id ity and| i arrogance, over-com pensation and in tro v ersio n are | j m erely d escr ip tiv e metaphors fo r deform ations which j 53 Ibid.. p. 73. 95 spring from b a s ic a lly th© sama r o o t.®4 The pressure o f environment cramps a rt as i t cramps 1 behaviour. One may challenge t h is environment, but i one has to pay fo r i t , and the p rice i s n eu rotic g u ilt . ! ! There never was an in t e llig e n t s ia without a g u ilt - complex; i t i s the income tax one has to pay for want ing to make oth ers r ic h e r . An armament manufacturer may have a p e r fe c tly clean conscience; but I have never j met a p a c if is t w ithout a g u ilt y look in h is e y e s. 55 j In sev era l ea r ly e n tr ie s in h is d ia ry , Kafka re- i proached s o c ie ty fo r having corrupted a natu ral and fresh : v is io n through educating him to i t s ir r a t io n a lity . The 1 e n tr ie s have the appearance o f th© beginning o f a sto ry , t th e same id ea being repeated and developed s ix tim es over a space o f nine pages: When I think about i t , I must say th at my education has done me great harm in some r e sp e c ts. This reproach a p p lies to a m ultitude o f people—th at i s to say, my ' p arents, sev era l r e la t iv e s , in d iv id u a l v is it o r s at our ! house, various w r ite r s, a certa in p a rticu la r cook who j took me to school fo r a year, a crowd o f teach ers . . . ; a school in sp ecto r, slow ly walking p assers-b y; in sh o rt, t h is reproach tw is ts through s o c ie ty lik e a dagger. 55 Does one su sp ect, perhaps, th at I was educated in some ou t-of-th e-w ay place? No, I was educated in the middle o f th e c it y . . . . Not, fo r example, in a ruin in th© mountains or beside the la k e. . . . I should 54 Arthur K o estler, "The I n te llig e n ts ia ," L it t le 1 Review Anthology: 1945. ed. Denys Val Baker (London, 1945), I pp. 118-119. 55 I b id . . pp. 119-ISO. | 55 Franz Kafka, The D iaries o f Franz Kafka. 1910- | 1915. p. 14. 96l i have been th at l i t t l e dw eller in the r a in s, hearkening \ to the c r ie s o f the crows, soared over by th e ir shadows, co o lin g under the noon, burnt by the sun which: would have shone fo r me from a l l sid e s on ay bed o f ivy, even though I might have been a l i t t l e weak at f i r s t under the pressure of my good q u a lit ie s , which would have had to grow in me w ith the might o f w eeds. 57 The reproach fo r having a fte r a l l sp o iled a part o f me—fo r having sp o iled a good, b e a u tifu l part (in my dreams sometimes i t appears to me th e way a dead bride appears to o th e r s) . 58 But a l l th ese stren gth s are, again , on ly a remnant o f those I possessed as a c h ild , which exposed me more than oth ers to the corruptors o f youth, y e s, a good racing ch ariot i s the f i r s t to be pursued and overtaken by dust and wind, and i t s w heels f l y over o b sta cles so th at one might almost b eliev e in lo v e . 59 . . . I m yself . . . am perhaps the b est aid o f my a s s a ila n ts . For I underestim ate m yself, and th at in i t s e l f means an overestim ation o f o th ers; but even asid e from th at I overestim ate them. And aside from th a t I a lso do harm to m yself d ir e c t ly . 60 In a fragmentary ’ ’A utobiographical S k etch ,” he de- i sc r ib e s how h is experience in the home and school tended . ' to o b lite r a te in d iv id u a lity . 61 Attempts to eonform to the ; i ■ | eode o f h is fa th er and school seemed h o p eless, and every ! 57 I*>ia. , PP« 15-16. 58 IM d . , p. 18. 59 ifeia *, P« 20. 6 0 M ® . * 2 1 1 * 61 Franz Kafka, ’’Autobiographical S k etch ,” tra n s. Sophie Prombaum, A Franz Kafka M iscellan y, ed. Dorothy S. Norman (New York," “1946) . I 97! t ! i ; departure from what was considered to be "normal” weighed i h ea v ily on h is con scien ce, and overwhelmed him w ith a sense I o f g u ilt , r e su ltin g in a self-to rm en t th at seemed out o f j proportion to the stim ulus o f the in d iv id u a l r e b e llio n . Of the sense o f g u ilt th at accompanied h is i r r e s is t ib le d esire to read, at a time when he should have been doing h is home- |work, Kafka wrote: i For example, I had read a l l evening, although I had not yet studied my homework fo r the next day . . . t h is lapse -could su rely be no worse than my la te reading i t s e l f , e s p e c ia lly sin ce i t s consequences were much ! r e s tr ic te d by my great fea r o f school and th e au th ori t ie s : whatever I n eglected here and th ere by reading, : I used to make up q u ite e a s ily , with my good memory in ! those days, in the morning or in sch ool. But the c r u c ia l point was th at I m yself sh ifte d the condemna- ! tio n su ffered by my id iosyn crasy o f reading la te in to j th e n ight to my se c r e t n eg lig en ce, thus arrivin g a t a | most depressing s ta te o f mind. I t was lik e re ceiv in g a tap w ith a brush, not intended to h u rt, but on ly as j a warning; but one reacted by separating the b r is t le s , drawing th e ir p o in ts one by one in to one’s body and ; beginning to prick and scratch on e’ s in sid e s according to one’s own d esign , w hile the other hand s t i l l calm ly held the handle o f the b r u s h . 6 ^ He added, ” . . .n o one can purge h im self o f h is in d iv id u a lity . ”63 Kafka id e n tifie d h is fa th er (the su c c e ssfu l b u si- i |ness-m an, the p h y sic a lly stron g, h ea lth y , bourgeois I b id .; c ite d by Kate F lo res, "Biographical Mote," j The Kafka froblem . p. 4. 63 Ibid., p. 5. "normal") w ith so c ie ty and su ccess; and f e l t th a t h e, th e i * i I lone in t e lle c t u a l, was "in the wrong." In the le t t e r to j I h is fa th er, he wrote: I had always questioned m yself over every t r i f l e ; in every t r i f l e you convinced me, by your example and by the way you brought me up . . . o f my in c a p a b ility ,6* I had lo s t my self-co n fid e n e e w ith you, and ex changed a boundless sense o f g u ilt fo r i t . Remembering t h is b oundlessness, I once wrote f i t t i n g l y about some one: "He fea rs th at h is fe e lin g o f shame may even survive him. 1,65 This la s t sentence referred to th e concluding words o f The T r ia l. In the same "Letter to M y Father," Kafka explained h is choice o f a p ro fessio n , law, which meant "feeding i m entally on sawdust": I A ctu ally I was never free to choose a p ro fessio n ; I knew th a t compared w ith the main th in g (w ritin g] every th in g e ls e would fin d me as in d iffe r e n t as had a l l my I su b jects in secondary school; th e point was to fin d a J p ro fessio n whieh would most r e a d ily permit m e t h is in d iffe r e n c e . 66 , i This in d iffe r e n c e , he added, was h is "only pro te c tio n again st a nerve-d estroyin g fea r and sense o f I 64 Franz Kafka, "Letter to M y Father," c ite d by i Charles Neider, "The G ab aliets," The Kafka Problem, p. 424. j 65 Ib id .-. P. 421. | 66 "Letter to M y Father," c ite d by Kate F lo res, op. c i t . , p. 5. @9 g u i l t ." 67 The so litu d e o f the a r t is t or in t e lle c t u a l i s in te n s if ie d by the ir r e d u c ib ility o f p oin ts o f view , which Kafka in d ica ted as being a fundamental con d ition o f l i f e . This causes fundamental m isunderstanding among men. The a r t is t j i s p a r tic u la r ly aware o f the b a rrier th at sep arates him i t from the r e s t o f mankind. This has o ften given r i s e , in the p oet, to the fe e lin g of being su perior. But Kafka seemed to question the value o f th is awareness. "In t h is r e s p e c t," wrote Magny, "the world o f Kafka resem bles the world o f R aeine, in which lu c id it y i s vain and only imposes : one tortu re more.** IV. T H E DESIRE T O BE FR EED F R O M T H E TRIAL O F T H E M IND Together w ith a constant awareness o f the im possi b i l i t y o f fin d in g the tru th and o f f u l f i l l i n g the quest to which the lone hero f e e ls committed, Kafka's work con tain s a w is t f u l, im possible d esire to be freed from the t r i a l o f the mind, and to escape in to an e x iste n c e o f pure, prim i tiv e sen sa tio n . 57 Loc. c i t . ‘ 68 Magny, o£. c i t . . p. 89. One cannot escape o n e s e lf. That i s f a t e . The on ly p o s s ib ilit y i s to look on and fo rg et that a game i s being played w ith u s .6® A f i r s t sign o f nascent knowledge i s the d esire fo r death. This l i f e seems unendurable, any other un a tta in a b le . One i s no longer ashamed o f w ishing to d ie; one prays to be conducted from the ©Id c e l l th at one h ates in to a new one th at one has y et to h a te. There i s in t h is a v e stig e o f fa ith th at during the change the Master may chance to walk along the cor rid o r, contem plate the p rison er, and say: * You must not lock up th is one again. He i s to come to me. " 70 j The im p o s sib ility o f fin d in g a way o u t, and the i I str ic tu r e th a t the mind im poses, i s expressed in h is aphorism: The bony stru ctu re o f h is own forehead b locks h is way; he b a tters h im self bloody again st h is own foreh ead .7^ "The Wish to Be a Red Indian" images man’s d esire to ! — a £ 6 S K n o * * * leave h ls^bodEjJ^LsJfcOQ^ ! s o c ie ty , h is em otional tuggings and unhappiness, and fin d u unthinking freedom fo r th jg^ xisf-sp ace-of^ alJK llim liT ^ ^ ® freedom o f the id e a liz e d Indian,!,n a dream -like f lig h t through space. I f one were on ly an Indian, in s ta n tly a le r t , and on a racing hors©, lean in g again st the w ind, kept on quiver ing je r k ily over the quivering ground, u n til one shed 69 Janouch, Conversations w ith Kafka, p. 99. 7® Jranz Kafka, " R eflection s on S in , Pain, Hope, and the True Way," The Great Wall o f China, pp. 280-281. 71 Ibid., pp. 264-265. 101 one’s spurs, fo r there needed no spurs, threw away the r e in s, fo r there needed no r e in s , and hardly saw th at the land before one was smoothly shorn heath when h o rse's neek and head would be already gone. 72 72 Franz Kafka, "The Wish to Be a Red Indian," The Penal Colony, p. 39. dfflvarstty of Southern California LlDrar> CHAPTER VI R E A SO N VERSUS M YSTICISM IN D O ST O E V SK Y A theme b asic to a l l o f D ostoevsky’s w r itin g , par tic u la r ly the work a fte r h is return from S ib eria , i s a i quest fo r th e tru th . This tak es the form o f a c o n flic t | between reason and m ystieism , and reaches i t s culm ination I in the stru g g le o f id eas between the in te lle c t u a l Ivan and the m ystic Father Zossima in h is la s t n o v el, The Brothers Karamazov. j In n otes fo r the la s t se c tio n o f The P o ssessed . Dostoevsky drafted a b r ie f foreword, which was never used. ; Concerning K ir ilo v , the reb el again st God, he wrote: j In K irilo v i s a n a tio n a l id ea—to s a c r if ic e o n e s e lf and1 everything fo r the tru th — th at i s a n a tio n a l featu re o f the gen eration. May God b le s s i t and bring to i t an understanding o f th e tr u th . For the whole question c o n s is ts in what to regard as tr u th . For th is reason the novel was w r itte n .i The q uestion posed was: I s God, who perm its purpose le s s su ffe r in g , the tr u th , and i s t h is tru th to be d is covered through fa ith and surrender o f the w il l and abdica tio n o f the i n t e l l e c t , or i s tru th at th e end o f man’ s 1 F. M . Dostoevsky, Zaoisnve t e t r a d i. ed. E. N. Konshina (Moscow-Leningrad, 1935), p. 341; c ite d by Ernest J . Simmons, D ostoevsk i. the Making o f a N o v elist (New York, 1940), p. 299. X031 r a tio n a l £u©st? To th is question were bound the problems o f s in , g u ilt , and su ffe r in g , and th e ir r e la tio n to the ex iste n c e o f God. In th is stru g g le o f id e a s, Dostoevsky did not p lay j f a ir in presenting the r a tio n a l sid e . An example i s The Brothers Karamazov, in which Ivan’s indictm ent o f a God who j i ' perm its the su fferin g o f innocent ch ild ren i s sid e-step p ed , j and Dostoevsky makes no attem pt, through the teach in gs o f Father Zossima, to answer the charge d ir e c tly . He seemed d e lib e r a te ly to misunderstand contemporary in t e lle c t u a l movements, lumping so c ia l p h ilo so p h ies o f a l l shades—S o c ia lis t , A narchist, T erro rist—to g eth er, and to consider them a l l as g o d less movements supported by e v il i i op p ortu n ists. This prejudice reached i t s extreme in The P ossessed , in which "the l i f e o f a great sin n er” i s com bined w ith a d isto rte d s a tir e o f contemporary s o c ia lis t movements. Notes from Underground. In Notes from Underground Dostoevsky presented th e f i r s t f u l l treatm ent o f the lim ita tio n s o f the r a tio n a l approach to e x is t e n t ia l prob lem s. The. .work JLs in th e form o f a diary '"orIsonfessionT” ' and gave him ample opportunity to e d ito r ia liz e aH3Tslant'----- h is fa v o r ite themes. In h is next n ov el, Grime and Punish ment. he dramatized h is id ea s and presented them in a more / 104 / a r t is t ic a ll y acceptable manner. / The Underground Man i s a m orbidly s e n s itiv e , vain creatu re, wallowing in in f e r io r it y and self-to rm e n t. Like Arkady, the ”raw you th ,” he must e ith e r win com pletely, or com pletely degrade h im self. Only in h is dreams does he I a tta in the ex a lted sen sation s and p o sitio n he d e s ir e s . In j h is dreams, he sa y s, , ' ' ' i ! Anything but t he foremost p lace I could not conceive \ fo r m y self, S n ^ T T e r * * \ te n te d ly occupied the low est in r e a lit y . E ither to ) be a hero or to grovel in th e mud—there was nothing / between.^ / Only the stupid and lim ited ”men o f a c t io n ,” he claim s, are; 3 capable o f p o sitiv e a c tio n . His o v e r -in te lle e tu a liz in g has reduced him to th e p o sitio n o f ”an i n s e c t ,” incapable | o f p o s itiv e a c tio n , capable on ly o f gestu res o f degrada tio n . He cannot fin d h is way out o f the lab yrin th o f h is com plicated being. Through th e Underground Man, Dostoevsky condemns as u se le ss a freedom o f choice guided by reason alon e. M an w il l not choose th e ”good and b e a u tifu l,” says the Under ground Man, through reason a lo n e . 4 Even i f i t i s to h is 2 F. M . Dostoevsky, ”Notes from Underground,” The Short Novels o f Dostoevsky, tr a n s. Constance Garnett (New York, 1945)7 P. 167. 3 I b id . . p. 139. 4 I b id . , pp. 141-142. 105 advantage to choose good and fo llo w the rig h t way, even i f h is in t e ll e c t fin d s i t ’ ’lo g ic a l” to do so , M an w ill some tim es choose th at which i s harmful to him, e v i l , and to h is disadvantage, purely from p erv e rsity and o b stin a cy . j . Something in sid e him which i s stronger than a l l h is j g in te r e s ts . . . ” w i ll cause him to do e v i l . I i Season i s nothing hut reason and s a t i s f i e s on ly the ; ra tio n a l sid e o f man’s nature, w h ile w ill i s a mani- I fe s ta tio n o f th e whole l i f e , th at i s , o f the whole j human l i f e in clu d in g reason and a l l th e im p u lses. 7 j This attack on reason was another o f D ostoevsky’s | I a ssa u lts on so cia lism as he conceived i t . S o ciety could never he based on reason, because man i s an ir r a tio n a l creature whose ’ ’ w i l l ” d rives him to reb el again st the ! reasonable. In a la te r n o v el, Zosslma g iv e s the answer th at man must surrender reason and w ill and depend e n tir e ly on fa ith , r e lig io n , and the church. Grime and Punishment. Easkolnikov, the hero o f Crime and Punishment. i s , lik e Ivan Karamazov, an i n t e l le c tu a l and a re b e l. Mere ex isten ce had never been enough fo r him; he had always wanted something more. And perhaps i t was ju st 5 I b id . , p. 142. 6 I b id . . p. 143. 7 I b id . , p. 147. 106! because b is d e sir e s were so strong that he had regarded h im self at the time as a man to whom more was perm itted than to any other man. 8 Dostoevsky prepares the reader fo r the murder and the ensuing stru ggle o f conscience by showing th e character j o f Raskolnikov in h is rea ctio n to scenes o f horror and in - J ju s tic e encountered in h is l i f e o f poverty as a stru g g lin g j student. He m eets the drunkard Marmeladov and h is p i t i f u l ; fam ily, lea rn s o f S onia’ s s a c r if ic e , must su ffe r to stand by at Dunya’ s d isgrace and m istreatm ent, and meets the young g ir l who has been made drunk and raped. Raskolnikov v a c illa t e s between a fe e lin g o f h o p elessn ess, h e lp le s s in the fa ce o f in j u s t ic e , and cynicism . A fter attem pting to j save the g i r l from a new attack by a m iddle-aged le c h e r , he suddenly re v e r ts to cynicism , and t e l l s the policem an, "Let him have h is fun! What do you care? . . . Let them devour eaeh other a liv e fo r a l l I care. What b u sin ess i s i t of mine?”9 (A lin e th at Ivan Karamazov w ill re p e a t). He w itn e sse s, in h is l i f e o f poverty, a l l the weak n esses o f Man, a l l the horror th a t Man c r e a te s. Defen s iv e ly , he becomes c y n ic a l. He r e je c ts the m y stica l b e lie f in sa lv a tio n , and the b e lie f th at a l l i s fo r the b est in 8 F. M . D ostoevsky, Crime and Punishment, tra n s. David Margarshack (Harmondsworth, M iddlesex, 1951), p. 552. 9 I b id ., p. 68. God*s ir r a tio n a l world (which, even the h o p e le ssly defeated drunkard, Marmeladov, and h is daughter Sonia, who has been forced in to p r o s titu tio n , a cc e p t), and attack s th e problems o f e x iste n c e r a tio n a lly . Because he i s in t e llig e n t and su perior to th e morass o f humanity th a t he fin d s around him in the Hay Market se c tio n o f S t. Petersburg, and because mere e x iste n c e has never been enough fo r him, he must r is e j i above i t . He must prove h is su p e rio rity to h im self. Whereas Stavrogin and S vid rigaylov commit th e ir crim es from boredom, Baskolnikov commits h is in d esp eration , from the need to prove h im self. He exclaim s: Dear Sonia! What a g ir l! What a gold mine th ey have found! And th ey are making j o lly good use o f i t ! Took i t fo r granted. Wept b itte r te a r s and got used to i t . M an g e ts used to everything—the b e a s t!10 A fter t h is ou tb u rst, he r e f le c t s fo r a moment and says: What i f I am wrong? What i f man i s n ’t r e a lly a b ea st— man in gen eral,'X mean, th e whole human race, th at i s ; fo r i f he i s n o t, then a l l th e r e s t i s ju st p reju d ice, ju st imagined fe a r s, and there i s nothing to stop you fr o ^ d o in g anything you li k e , and th a t’s as i t should b e. Haskolnikov ponders over the fa te o f h is s is t e r . He 10 I b id ., p. 44. ^ Loc. c i t . 108 does not want her to s a c r ific e h e r s e lf fo r him by marrying the pompoms Luzhin. He d ecid es that he must act at once, prove h is su p e r io r ity , and save h is mother and s i s t e r from shame and poverty; "Or renounce l i f e a lto g eth er! . . . Humbly accept my f a t e , such as i t i s , and forever give up 12 every r ig h t to a c t, to l i v e , and to love!" | i A fter the in cid en t w ith th e drunken g i r l , who, he p r e d ic ts, w ill have to en ter a l i f e o f degradation in order th a t the la rg er "percentage" o f th e female population may be s a fe , Raskolnikov wanders about the c i t y , and at la s t f a l l s asleep in a wood. He has a haunting fear-dream: he and h is fa th e r , in fro n t of a p ro v in cia l tavern come upon a scene te r r ify in g to th e s e n s itiv e young boy—a group o f | drunken peasants are beating an over-loaded, worn-out horse to death (The image o f a peasant b eatin g an emaciated horse across the eyes haunts Dostoevsky through sev era l n o v e ls ). I t i s a fear-d ream o f utte r ^ h e lp le ssn e ss before world cr u e lty . The boy must stand by, without being able to .. in terv en e, and watch th e peasants beat the h e lp le s s animal to death. A fter the te r r ib le death agony, the boy rushes to th e horse and k is s e s i t s eyes and b lo od -stain ed muzzle. The dream again awakens him to the consequences o f 12 Ibid., p. 63. 109 -hls_p.roposed act of murder , and he f e e ls th a t he w ii\ be able to d© JLt. But th e murder ©f th e e v il ©Id pawn- b§ads ; so he d riv es h im self to do i t , in sp ite o f th e t e r r ib le prem onitions experienced beforehand. He prays fo r wonderful r e le a se and freedom, bat on ly momentarily, from h is o b sessio n . D espite D ostoevsky’s p resen tation o f Raskolnikov in r e la tio n to h is surroundings. environment i s not allowed th e r e a n o n sib lllty for,A la, oyima.. This would not be in keeping w ith th e need fo r freedom o f choice and in d iv id u a l i re s p o n s ib ilit y . A fter he has committed the crim e, Raskolnikov f e e ls cut^off-from-humanity.* He begins to hat© even th ose he lo v es b e s t, h is mother and s i s t e r , because he b e lie v e s that he can never fo rg iv e h im self fo r th e murder. In an o u tlin e o f th e n ovel th a t he sent to la tk o v (h is p u b lish e r ), Dostoevsky wrote th at the reason fo r R askolnikov’ s need to denounce h im self was th at the broker has become th e symbol o f h is w i ll to t e s t w il1 dare to ti hi a a id , a fte r the dream, ”0 Lord, show me th e way I s h a ll give up t h i s —t h is damnable dream o f m ine!* * 13 He f e e ls a 13 Ibid., p. 79. 110 . . . tru th o f God . . . and human nature have a ffe c te d h is co n v ictio n s. . . . The d ivin e tru th and the ea r th ly laws are op eratin g, and in the end he i s s e l f constrained to g iv e h im self up, even though he may have to d ie in a p e n iten tia ry , "because t h is i s h is only hope o f again being able to a sso c ia te w ith people. For the fe e lin g o f exclu sio n and is o la tio n which f o l lowed th e crime was the g r e a te st o f to r tu r e s. The j laws o f tru th and human nature are v ic to r io u s , and the ■ crim inal r e so lv e s to accept su ffer in g in order to re deem h is a c tio n . 14 j Immediately a fte r the murder, Raskolnikov begins to | turn from the r a tio n a l to the m y stic a l, d iv in in g the "truth o f God" and "laws o f human nature." At la s t he turns in s t in c t iv e ly to Sonia fo r sa lv a - ; tio n . He asks her to go w ith him to S ib e r ia , saying, " . . . we have to take the su ffer in g upon o u rselv es. . . . Freedom and power—power above a l l . Power over a l l th e I - - - i tumbling vermin and over a l l the a n t - h il l. That’s our i s goal.’" He s t i l l cannot humble h im self com pletely, how ever, as Sonia a d v ise s, and bow down before "the people" and ask th e ir fo r g iv e n e ss. He even th ink s o f su ffer in g as a means to power, a means o f remaining above the "vermin." He f e e ls no g u ilt before the people. They are as e v i l as he; b esid e s, th ey would not understand, nor deserve t o . 14 Cited by Simmons, oj). c i t . , p. 149; and by Henry Troyat, Firebreuad: The l i f e o f D ostoevsky, tr a n s. Herbert Guterman (New York, 1946}, p . 263. Crime and Punishment. p. 345. Ill In cid e n ta l to the main p lo t i s the episode of N ik olay’s co n fessio n . A fter fin d in g a p iece o f the sto le n jew elry, which he s e l l s fo r a drink, N ikolay t r ie s to hang h im self. When he i s apprehended by the p o lic e , he im m ediately co n fesses to the murder. In an a n a ly sis o f t h is fe e lin g o f g u i l t , P o rfiry exp la in s th at Nikolay i s a mem- j ber o f the fa n a tic a l and persecuted r e lig io u s se c t o f R askolniks. He i s f i l l e d w ith a vague sense o f g u ilt th at d riv es him to seek su ffe r in g . His i s an ex p ia tio n w ithout - j crim e, a recurrent Dostoevskian theme. | In h is r e b e llio n again st g u ilt , Raskolnikov tern- ! p o ra rily suppresses contact w ith Sonia; she has assumed th e ; r o le o f h is con scien ce, and he h ates her fo r i t . He goes in search o f S vid rig a y lo v , in a la s t desperate need to escape h is conscience and g u ilt . S vid rigaylov i s D ostoevsky’s extreme caricatu re o f the f a it h le s s in t e lle c t u a l without v a lu es. He has, lik e Stavrogin , lo s t h is sense o f d iscrim in ation between good and e v i l . He turns to v ic e through boredom. “There i s something permanent in th is v i c e ,” he t e l l s Raskolnikov; . . . something th at i s founded on nature and not sub je c t to the whims o f fancy; something th a t i s always there in your blood, lik e a p iece o f red-hot c o a l. . . . You must agree i t ’ s an occupation o f a s o r t, i s n ’t i t ?16 16 Ibid.. p. 482. 112 He asks Raskolnikov i s he b e lie v e s in a future l i f e : "I do not b e lie v e in a future l i f e , " said Raskolnikov. S vid rigaylov sa t lo s t in thought. ’ ’And w h at,” he said suddenly, " if there are on ly sp id ers th er e, or something o f the so r t? ” ”He’s mad,” thought Raskolnikov. "We're always th in k in g o f e te r n ity as an id ea th at cannot be understood, something immense. But why must i t be? What i f , in stead o f a l l t h i s , you suddenly fin d ; ju st a l i t t l e room th er e, something lik e a v illa g e ! bath-house, grimy, and sp id ers in every corner, and t h a t ’s a l l e te r n ity i s . Sometimes, you know, I can’t help fe e lin g th at th a t’ s probably what i t i s . ”17 R askolnikov’s blood runs cold . When he ta lk s to S vid rigaylov in a c a fe , Raskolnikov sen ses th at t h is fa ith - j l e s s man, com pletely w ithout v a lu e s, rep resen ts the end o f ; th e road begun by h im self. He returns to Sonia; then, the | same evening, denounces h im self at the p o lic e s ta tio n . I P o rfiry has guessed th a t Raskolnikov would give him s e l f up ev en tu a lly . He says to him, . . . you’re one o f those men who, even i f he were d is embowelled, would stand and look at h is to r tu r ers w ith a sm ile, provided he had found something to b e lie v e in or had found God. W ell, fin d i t and you w ill l i v e . 18 When Raskolnikov ask s, "And what i f I should run away?” P o rfiry answers th at he won’t , because he no longer b e lie v e s in h is " id e a .” He needs punishment and could not bear wandering about the world w ith h is remorse. A lacky 17 I b id . « p. 305. 18 I b id ., p. 471. 113 would run, but not Raskolnikov. ”You ca n 't do w ithout u s ,” says P o r f ir y .^ In p riso n , Raskolnikov s t i l l r e b e ls again st h is g u ilt . He has not com pletely given up r a tio n a lity . Oh, how happy he would have been i f he r e a lly could ' have regarded h im self as g u ilt y o f a crime I He would have put up w ith everything th en , even w ith h is shame and d isgrace. But he judged h im self se v e r e ly , and h is obdurate conscience could fin d no s p e c ia lly te r r ib le fa u lt in h is p a st, except perhaps the fa u lt o f commit tin g a sim ple blunder which could have happened to anyone. What he was ashamed o f was th at he, Raskolnikov, should have perished so u tte r ly , so hope l e s s l y , and so stu p id ly because o f some blind d ecisio n o f fa te , and th at he should have to humble h im self and submit to th e absurdity o f th at sort o f a d ecisio n i f he wished to get any peace o f mind at a l l . 20 y y The supermen were su c c e ss fu l, he r a tio n a liz e s , and so th ey were r ig h t. He, in h is fa ilu r e , was wrong. ”I t was th a t alone he considered to have been h is crime: not s i having been su c c e ssfu l in i t and having confessed i t . ”* The f in a l turning from reason to m ysticism i s , per haps unconvincingly, in d icated in a d e lir io u s dream, which sym bolizes the plague o f reason d estroyin g the ea rth . I t resem bles the dream o f ”The Golden Age” in ”The Dream o f a R idiculous Man,” ”S tavrogin ’s C onfession” in The P o ssessed . 19 ifr ia *, P- 473. 20 Ib id . , p. 551. I b id . , p. 552. 114 and Y e r silo v ’s dream in A Raw Youth. He i s brought to th is point o f "regeneration” through the lo v e and s e lf - s a c r if io e o f Sonia. "It was love th a t brought them baok to l i f e : the heart o f one held in ex h a u stib le sources o f l i f e fo r the At th e beginning o f h is " regen eration ,” Dostoevsky says o f Raskolnikov ly in g on h is prison bench: H ow he would hardly have been able to solve any o f h is problems co n scio u sly ; he could on ly f e e l . L ife had taken t he place o f d ia le c t ic s , and something <iuite d if feren t had to worST T f out in h is mind. 23 This again demon .tes D ostoevsky’ s emphasis upon^ w . i the in n ate goodneas^o£,jnan.!ja^najtural^^eiliJLgs. as opposed to ^ the d estru ctiv e power o f reason. As D ostoevsky, through Zossima, does not attempt to r e fu te d ir e c tly Ivan ’s condemnation of God, so he sid e step s the im p lica tio n s o f R askolnikov’s problems, and turns him to m ysticism . At the end o f the n ovel, he i s seen picking up the New Testament, and thinking th at perhaps S on ia’ s c o n v ic tio n s, f e e lin g s , and yearnings w i ll be h is . The author e d it o r ia liz e s th a t th ey w ill have to pay fo r th e ir future happiness w ith great su ffe r in g . 22 heart o f the oth er." Reason no longer s u f f ic e s , and Dostoevsky attem pts to turn him to the m y stic a l. 22 I b id . , p. 558 Loc. c i t . 115! R askolnikov's r e b ir th , "his gradual p assin g from one world to another, o f h is acquaintance w ith a new and h ith erto unknown r e a lity ," i s the su b ject fo r a new s to r y . 24 The I d io t . In the attempt to create an e n tir e ly good and C h r ist-lik e ch aracter, Dostoevsky lea n s again on 1 i the power o f man’s n atu ral f e e lin g . ! I Myshkin p o ssesses what Dostoevsky c a lls "primary in te llig e n c e ." There are two kinds o f in te llig e n c e , A glaia t e l l s him, "one th at m atters, and one th a t doesn’t j 2 5 I m atter." The "primary" v a r ie ty e x is t s beyond the world o f "twice two makes fou r." This hidden and unconscious wisdom, though p a ssiv e , i s powerful and good, w hile in t e l- | le c t lead s man to e v i l and r e b e llio n . This i s in keeping j w ith h is m y stica l b e lie f in the innate wisdom and goodness o f the peasant, o f th e tru th s "unformulated and uncon scious" th a t e x is t in th e depths o f the Russian s o u l. 26 The primary in te llig e n c e and p a ssive h u m ility o f Myshkin disarm and conquer th e w orldly in te llig e n c e o f the 24 I b id . . p. 559. 25 F. M . Dostoevsky, The I d io t . tr a n s. Constance Garnett (London, 1913), p. 430. 26 F. M. Dostoevsky, "Le M ilieu" (Le C itoven . 1873, No. £ ), in Le Journal D’Un le r iv a in . tr a n s. Jean C huzeville (P a r is, 1938T, P. 120. 116 aggressiv e people around him. He disarms the sen su al and corrupt by tr e a tin g them as i f they were g en tle and good. The sin n ers are a ttr a cte d to Myshkin, and no one i s un changed a fte r con tact w ith him. They react w ith p e c u lia r ly Dostoevskian am bivalence, lo v in g him and attem pting to be good fo r short p erio d s, and h atin g him as a rep resen tation o f th e ir con scien ce. In Myshkin's sto ry o f th e v illa g e ch ild ren , Dostoevsky presented id ea s s tr ik in g ly sim ila r to those Kafka s e t fo rth in "M y education has done me great harm * • ♦” (D ia r ie s : 1910- 1915. and In " In v estig a tio n s o f a Dog"). Children liv e c lo se to nature and God, says Myshkin.j They s t i l l p o ssess the "primary in te llig e n c e ." Their I I teach ers and parents w i ll eorrupt them, however, and when th ey become ad u lts and accept th e r u le s o f the adult world, th ey w ill lo s t th is sim ple b e lie f and freedom. "Grown-up people do not know," says Myshkin, "that a ch ild can give 27 exceed in gly good advice even in th e most d if f ic u lt case." The L ife o f a Great S in n er. A goal o f D ostoevsky’s l i f e was to w rite The L ife o f a Great Sinner, a vast pro je c t th a t was to comprise fiv e n o v e ls. The hero o f the sto r y , to be modeled on S t. Tikhon Zadonsky, was suddenly 27 Dostoevsky, The Idiot, p. 64. 117 to lo se h is fa ith in God and go on a quest fo r the tr u th . Dostoevsky wrote in a le t t e r : The main question th at w ill be ra ised throughout the work, i s one th at has co n scio u sly and unconsciously tormented me a l l o f my l i f e —th at o f the ex isten ce o f God. In the course o f h is l i f e , the hero w i ll be su c c e ssiv e ly an a th e is t, a b e lie v e r , a fa n a tic , a h e r e tic , and then again an a t h e is t . *8 He pokes about among the new gen eration , among a th e is t s , s la v e s , and Europeans; among Eussian fa n a tic s , herm its, and p r ie s ts . . . . From th is he f a l l s to the very depths o f self-ab asem en t, and in the end he returns to fin d both C hrist and th e Russian s o i l , the Russian C hrist and the Russian God; . . . but my hope i s to w rite t h is la s t n o v el, and then I can d ie —I s h a ll have said a l l . 29 This was to be D ostoevsky's " F au st.” The p roject was never com pleted, however. Only fragments o f characters; and id ea s from the v a st p roject appeared in The P ossessed . A Raw Youth. and The Brothers Karamazov. Dostoevsky pre sen ts various in t e lle c t u a l heroes—Raskolnikov, Stavrogin, ! and Ivan Karamazov—who have drawn away from the Russian people and th e Russian C h rist, have lo s t th e ir fa ith in r e lig io u s au th o rity , and seek in d iv id u a l and immediate c e r ta in ty o f the tr u th , without fa ith . Ivan searches fo r the answers to the u n iversal problems o f e x iste n c e , fo r ru le s o f conduct, and fo r sin and su ffe r in g , through reason 2® C ited by Troyat, op. c i t . . pp. 336-337. 29 Cited by Simmons, op. cit., p. 241. 118 alon e. And lik e Faust, Stavrogin begins an ex p loration o f a l l the p o s s ib i l it ie s o f h is n atnre. But u n lik e Faust, he lo s e s a l l d is tin c tio n between good and e v i l , and r e c e iv e s pleasure from both. Unlike G oethe’s Faust, in which pos s i b i l i t i e s for exp loration o f good and e v il in th e human sou l are in f in it e (in sp ite o f F au st’s sa lv a tio n at the I en d ), D ostoevsky’s in t e lle c t u a l h eroes end in su ic id e or ' [ brain fe v e r , or, lik e Haskolnikov, th ey must learn to humble them selves and turn to th e m ystical road o f s e l f l e s s love and su ffe r in g in order to fin d God. ‘ The P o ssessed . The P ossessed i s an a r t i s t i c a l l y un su c c e ssfu l m ixture o f a p ortion o f The L ife o f a Great i Sinner and propaganda again st contemporary S o c ia lis t and 1 I W esternizing movements. From t h is mixture emerges the dominating fig u re o f N ikolay S tavrogin . His name has fo r i t s root the Greek word ’’stau ros," meaning cross.®® The man w ith the name Stavrogin i s one who bears a c r o ss. This cross i s h is remorse. Stavrogin has become divorced from fa ith and from the s o i l . Bishop Tihon t e l l s him, There i s one punishment th a t f a l l s upon those who d i vorce them selves from th e ir n a tiv e s o il: boredom and a Dominique Arban, D ostoievsk i "le Coupable" (P a r is, 1953), p. 228. 119 tendency toward id le n e ss even where there i s a d esire fo r work. But C h r istia n ity i n s i s t s upon r e s p o n s ib ility ir r e sp e c tiv e o f environment.31 And Shatov r e in fo r c e s th is when he t e l l s Stavrogin, ”. . . the man who lo s e s connection with h is country lo s e s h is gods, th at i s , a l l h is aim s.**32 S tavrogin fs wrongs, he elaim s, arrive through bore- i dom. lfI was so u tte r ly bored th a t I could have hanged my s e l f , and i f I d id n 't, i t was because I was s t i l l looking 33 forward to som ething, as I have a l l my l i f e . ” w Soon, he adm its, he lo s e s a l l sense o f d is tin c tio n . ! I have n eith er th e fe e lin g nor th e knowledge o f good and e v i l , and not on ly have I lo s t the sense o f good and e v i l , but good and e v il r e a lly do not e x is t . . . -and are but a p reju d ice. . . i And in a l e t t e r to Darya Pavlovna he w r ite s, “I am s t i l l ! j capable, as I always was, o f d esirin g to something good, and o f fe e lin g pleasure from i t ; at th e same time I d esire 3 5 e v il and f e e l pleasure from th at t o o .” Stavrogin in ju r es everyone he tou ch es. L iza, a fte r P. M. D ostoevsky, The P o ssessed . tr a n s. Constance G arnett, w ith the Chapter ”At Tihon’ s , ” tr a n s . Avrahm Yarmolinsky (M ew York, 1936), p. 722. 32 IM d . , p. 686. 33 Ib id . . pp. 704-705. 34 I b id . . p. 712. 35 Ibid., p. 685. 120 spending the might w ith him, r e a liz e s th at he i s incapable o f lo v e . She re fu se s to f le e w ith him, saying, ”. . . I won’t he your nurse, though, o f cou rse, you need one as much as any crip p led crea tu re. ”36 Then she rep eats the spider image, D ostoevsky’s recurrent symbol o f e v i l . I always fan cied th at you would take me to some p laee where th ere was a huge wicked sp id er, big as a man, and we should spend our l iv e s looking at i t and being a fra id o f i t . That’s how our love would spend i t s e l f . 37 She has receiv ed from him an incurable wound. She r e a liz e s th a t she has loved a creatu re, e v il beyond sa lv a tio n , whose crim es have struck at the root o f u n iv ersa l harmony. I t was the same when Matryosha shook her tin y f i s t at j Stavrogin and cried : ”1 k ille d God.”® ® W hen Liza lea rn s o fj the murder o f Ivan’ s w ife , she f e e ls m orally resp o n sib le. i Her remorse d riv es her to view the corpse at the scene o f the murder. There, th e drunken mob s tr ik e s her down, and her ex p ia tio n i s f u l f i l l e d . Stavrogin goes to Father Tihon, at Shatov*s sugges tio n , in order to learn the way o f s e lf-fo r g iv e n e s s fo r the rape o f the l i t t l e g i r l , Matryosha, who had, then, hanged 56 !*>!&. . P* 535. 37 Loc. c i t . 38 I b id . . p. 709. 131 h e r s e lf in an a t t i c , w hile he sat below, examining a spider on a geranium le a f . He t e l l s Tihon th at the v is io n o f th e c h ild 's d eso la te face haunts him co n sta n tly . He seeks a way to fo rg iv e h im self, knowing th at on ly then w i ll the v is io n disappear* L isten to me, Father Tihon: I want to fo r g iv e m yself. T hat's my c h ie f o b je e t, th a t's my whole aim! . . . I know only then w ill the ap parition van ish . That i s i why I seek m easureless su ffe r in g , I seek i t m yself. S o, do not fr ig h te n me, or I s h a ll p erish in my v ic io u sn e ss. . . . 39 He t e l l s Tihon h is dream o f "The Golden Age." A fter seein g the p ain tin g by Glaude Lorraine, c a lle d "Acis and G alatea," he dreams o f an age o f ea rth ly paradise when man kind liv e d in happy harmony. "Oh, how happy I was th at my 40 heart was shaken and th at at la s t I loved!" When he awakens, for th e f i r s t tim e in h is l i f e h is eyes are bathed with te a r s . But in the m idst o f th is happiness, he glances at the lig h t streaming through th e window, and see s a red spider on the green fo lia g e o f the window box. This brings back to mind h is crime and th e v isio n o f the haggard, wronged Matryosha. Tihon, who, lik e Zossima, lo v e s the great sin n ers, proclaim s, 39 I b id . . p. 727. 40 Ib id . , p. 716. 122 . . . th ere i s s t i l l hope fo r you, and you have taken a great road, an unheard o f roaa, th a t of in f lie t in g upon y o u rself before the whole people the shameful punishment you so amply d eserve. 41 Stavrogin , however, has begun to hate in advance a l l those who w i l l read h is co n fessio n . His satan ic pride and lack o f fa ith w i ll not permit him to bear the h um iliation o f o th e r ’s p ity . Like Raskolnikov, he f e e l s th a t the people don't deserve h is h u m ility . He cannot accept h is cross fo r he doesn’t b e lie v e in i t . As he i s about to leave the c e l l , Tihon has a sudden, te r r ify in g premonition th a t Stavrogin i s about to sink to new depths o f immorali ty ; th at he w il l not be able to accept h is on ly hope o f sa lv a tio n . F in a lly , Stavrogin hangs h im self rather than subm it. The Brothers Karamazov. In h is notebook, Dostoevsky wrote th a t th e whole n o v el, The Brothers Karamazov, served as a r e fu ta l to the powerful negation o f God contained in 42 "The Grand I n q u isito r ” and th e two preceding ch ap ters. In a con fession of h is b e lie f s to Alyosha, Ivan refu ses to accept a world that perm its p urposeless s u ffe r in g . He i s w illin g to accept God, assuming th a t H e i s 41 Ibid., p. 72G. Simmons, op. cit., p. 383. 123 beyond human comprehension; " I t 's not th a t I don't accept God . . . i t ' s the world created by Him I don't and cannot 43 accept.** Ivan recounts s to r ie s o f the h orrib le su ffer in g o f innocent ch ild ren . He i n s i s t s th a t * * . . . i f th e su f fe r in g s o f ch ildren go to sw ell th e sum o f su ffe r in g s which was n ecessary to pay fo r tr u th , then I p ro test th at the i 4 4 1 tru th i s not worth such a p r ic e ." He demands immediate ju s tic e on earth fo r crim es again st innocence; he w i l l not w ait u n til the to rtu rer and the tortured embrace in some future world, when everyone w ill understand th e reason fo r a l l o f man's su ffe r in g . W hen Ivan asks Alyosha i f , con stru ctin g an e d ific e o f u n iv ersa l peace and happiness, he could do so upon the unavenged te a r s o f one tortured c h ild , Alyosha admits th a t he could n o t. C h rist, however, he adds, W ho has s a c r ific e d His innocent blood fo r a l l men, has th e r ig h t to fo rg iv e and to b u ild a stru ctu re o f peace on unavenged su ffe r in g . I t i s at t h is point th at Ivan t e l l s the sto ry "The Grand In q u isito r ." The Grand In q u isito r admonishes C hrist fo r having rejected the p r iz e s o ffered Him by Satan in th e w ild ern ess F. M. D ostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov. tr a n s. Constance Garnett (New York, 1929), p. 244. 44 Ibid., p. 254. 124 and having loaded man w ith a burden he cannot bear. Nothing i s a greater cause o f su ffer in g than freedom of con scien ce. "M an p refers peace, and even death," says the Grand In q u isito r , ”to freedom o f choice in the knowledge o f i 45 good and e v il." There are three powers ab le to conquer and hold cap tive the conscience o f "these impotent re b e ls fo r th e ir own h ap p in ess--th ese fo rces are m ira cle, mystery 46 and a u th o r ity .” The C atholic Church, using th ese three powers, has "corrected” the work o f C h rist; and by keeping man’s con scien ce, i t w ill give peace to the v a st m ajority o f mankind th at i s too weak to take upon i t s e l f the know ledge o f good and e v i l . C h rist, charges the Grand In- ! q u is ito r , can save on ly th e " e le c t," the handful o f excep tio n a l men who can stand the burden o f th e ir own conscience; but the Church has the r e s t of mankind, whom i t w i l l allow to liv e h app ily and die p ea ce fu lly . The Church, more than C h rist, lo v es man; fo r by crea tin g him weak and r e b e llio u s , and w eighting him w ith freedom, C hrist condemns man to a l i f e o f pain, follow ed by e v e r la stin g death. In the remainder o f th e n o v el, th ere i s no attempt to answer these charges reasonably. E v il, the su ffer in g o f 45 Ib id . , p. 264. 46 Loe. c i t . 125 the Innocent, and freedom o f choice are ca rried , for j u s t i f ic a t io n , in to th e realm o f the m y stic a l. A part o f the answer, however, comes from Father Zossima. He teach es that man must be "responsible to a l l men fo r a l l and everyth in g, fo r a l l human s in s , n ation al and in d iv id u a l. ”47 j The sto r y o f Job i s h is fa v o r ite . I t s g rea tn ess, he sa y s, i s i t s m ystery; ”th at the passing ea rth ly show and 40 the etern a l v e r it y are brought to g eth er in i t . ” To him, man’s h ig h est attainm ent i s complete s e lf le s s n e s s and sur render of the w ill; th e exact op p osite o f Ivan ’s r e b e llio u s , M man-god.” He com pletely accep ts God’s world, and, Job- , lik e , su ffe r s unquestioningly. He teach es man to love 1 everything in God's world, in clu d in g pain; and urges him to seek p u r ific a tio n through su ffe r in g . He preaches a God o f in f in it e lo v e; "M an cannot commit a sin so great as to ex- 49 haust the in f in it e love o f God.” He urges complete sub m issiv en ess; fo rg iv en ess and love to th ose who sin again st S one. A ctive lo v e , alo n e, lead s one to the most p erfect v / 47 I h id . , p. 170. 48 I h id . , p . 304. 49 I h id . , p. 51. 126 s ta te , s e lf-fo r g e tfu ln e s s , and to f a i t h .5^ Zossima urges man to lo v e l i f e more than i t s mean in g . Alyosha, h is d is c ip le , t e l l s Ivan to love l i f e . . reg a rd less o f lo g ic , and i t ’s on ly then one w il l under- i K1 stand th e meaning o f i t . ” i The reader i s given Dmitri as an example o f man’ s j need to su ffe r and fin d sa lv a tio n through the acceptance o f u n iversal g u ilt . Like th at o f D ostoevsky’s id e a liz e d peasant, D m itri’s p e r so n a lity i s com pletely co n tr o lled by sen sation and emotion. Like the peasant, he i s capable o f great sin ; but h is inner being may contain ’ ’the tru th o f j God," and he i s capable o f repentance and the acceptance o f su ffe r in g . The need to s u ffe r i s revealed to Dmitri in the form o f a dream during h is in terr o g a tio n , in which he sees a hungry and frozen ch ild crying at the b reast o f i t s mother, "’fJhy i s th e babe so poor?’ That was a sign to me at th at moment," he t e l l s Alyosha. " I t ’s fo r th e babe I ’m going £to S ib e r ia ]. Because we are a l l resp on sib le fo r a l l . . . . I go fo r a l l , because some one must go for a l l . " 52 " . . . I want to su ffe r ," he t e l l s h is accu sers, 50 I b id . , p. 55. 51 I b id . . p. 239. 52 I b id . , p. 627. 127 "and by su ffe r in g I s h a ll be p u r ifie d . " 53 Grushenka, the same em otional type as D m itri, i s a lso accorded sa lv a tio n . She f e e ls a great need o f repent ance , and seeks su ffer in g as a means to peace and happi- 1 n ess. Alyosha, strong by v irtu e o f goodness and h u m ility , j lik e Myshkin, has a p o s itiv e e f f e c t on whomever he tou ch es. Even h is corrupt fa th er i s a ffe c te d by h is s a in tlin e s s and h u m ility. Like a l l o f D ostoevsky1s p o s itiv e h eroes, he must go through th e f ir e o f sin and doubt before fin d in g absolute s e lf le s s n e s s and fa ith . Zossima sends him from th e monastery in to th e w orld, in order th a t he may b le ss the li v e s o f o th ers, and su ffe r in the world o f sin in I ! order to a tta in true sta tu r e . For Zossima b e lie v e s th at the monk liv in g in sec lu sio n " is worse than o th ers, than a l l men on ea rth . . . having cowardly escaped the world o f e v i l . 54 D ostoevsky^ "W esternizers" and in t e lle c t u a ls are o ften ca rica tu res. Miusov i s a pompous, con ceited noble man, f i l l e d w ith h alf-understood "Western" id ea s o f s o c ia l ism and atheism . E a k itin , the student liv in g under the 53 I b id . , p. 540. 54 l*>id. , p. 169. j 128 p ro tectio n o f th e monastery, i s an e g o is t ic a l lackey and op p ortu n ist, who spouts ill-c o n c e iv e d id ea s o f atheism and so cia lism . Be preaches to Alyosha and Dm itri, "Humanity w ill fin d in i t s e l f the power to liv e fo r v irtu e even w ith out b e lie v in g in im m ortality. I t w ill fin d i t in love fo r 55 freedom, fo r eq u a lity , fo r fr a te r n ity ." One o f D ostoevsky’s stron gest answers to Ivan ’s accu sation s comes from the a etio n s and character o f Ivan h im self. A fter the murder o f h is fa th e r , he i s haunted by the knowledge th a t he wished th a t death, perhaps in sp ired i t . He se n se s, a fte r the conversation w ith Smerdyakov, th at h is fa th er w i ll be murdered, and i s depressed. De sp ite t h is foreboding, he lea v es the house; and on the 56 tr a in to Moscow he w hispers suddenly, "I am a scoundrel." Tortured by su sp icion o f Smerdyakov’s g u ilt and h is consequent im p lic a tio n , he rep eated ly v i s i t s him. He re fu ses to b e lie v e th at Smerdyakov i s g u ilty ; but h is sub con sciou s, which I s revealed to him by h a llu c in a tio n s in which he ta lk s to the D evil (who, he reco g n izes, i s him- ^ s e l f ) , makes him aware o f h is g u ilt . f in a l ly , Smerdyakov t e l l s him: 55 I b id . . P* 82. 56 I b id . . p. 290. 129 . . . I f you s t i l l haven’t understood t i l l now, as I see fo r m y self, and are not pretending, so as to throw your g u ilt on me to my very fa c e , you are s t i l l resp on sib le fo r a l l , sin ce you knew o f the murder and charged me to do i t , and went away knowing a l l about i t . And so I want to prove to your face t h is evening th at you are the on ly r e a l murderer in th e whole a f f a ir , and I am not the r e a l murderer, though I did k i l l him. You are th e r ig h tfu l murderer.®7 . . . I was only your instrum ent, your fa it h f u l j servan t, and i t was follo w in g your words I did i t . 58 i Smerdyakov says t h is on th e eve of h is s u ic id e . He has lo s t a l l d esire fo r the s to le n money, and g iv e s i t to Ivan, saying: i I did have an id ea o f beginning a new l i f e w ith th at money in Moscow o r , b e tte r s t i l l , abroad. I did dream , o f i t , c h ie fly because ’ ’a l l th in g s are la w fu l.” That was q u ite rig h t what you taught me, fo r you talked a j lo t to me about th a t. For i f th e r e ’ s no e v e r la stin g ! God, th e r e ’ s no such th in g as v ir tu e , and th e r e ’ s no need o f i t . You were r ig h t th e r e . So t h a t ’s how I looked a t i t . 59 Ivan d ecid es to denounce Stoerdyakov and h im self to t the p o lic e . He f e e ls happy w ith t h is r e so lu tio n . But in stead o f reporting that n ig h t, he decid es to do i t the fo llo w in g morning. ’’ ’Everything togeth er to-morrowJ’ he whispered to h im self, and, strange to say, almost a l l h is 60 gladness and s e lf - s a t is f a c t io n passed in one in s t a n t .” 57 I b id . . p. 665. 58 I b id . . p. 661. 59 I b id ., p. 670. 60 I M i - , P* 672* 130 His subconscious, again , w il l not l e t him r e s t; he knows th at the delay i s on ly an excuse to evade g u ilt and p ublic shame. O n returning home from h is la s t v i s i t with Smerdyakov, Ivan has a nightmare in v o lv in g another conver sa tio n w ith the D ev il. This D e v il, he rep eated ly s ta te s , t i s a p ro jectio n o f h is own id eas and fe e lin g s . He tau n ts Ivan by throwing up to him the id eas th a t he had formulated the previous spring; id eas o f "the new man" who w ill liv e without God. W e on ly need to destroy the id ea o f God in man. . . . As soon as men have a l l o f them denied God . . . every th ing w ill begin anew. Men w ill u n ite to take from l i f e a l l i t can g iv e , but on ly fo r joy and happiness in th e present w orld. . . . From hour to hour extending| h is conquest o f nature i n f i n it e ly by h is w ill and h is sc ie n c e . . . . Every one w ill know th at he i s m ortal and w ill accept death proudly and seren ely lik e a god. . . w il l love h is brother w ithout need o f reward. • • i Ivan r a tio n a liz e s th at everyone recogn izin g th is tru th may order h is l i f e as he p le a se s, w hile w aitin g fo r the new era. Even i f the new period never a r r iv e s, since there i s no God and no im m ortality, the new man may become a man-god; " a ll th in g s are lawful" fo r him. The D evil t e l l s him th at in denouncing h im self, "You 61 I b id . , P- 688. 62 Hoc. o i t . 131 are going to perform an act o f h eroic v ir tu e , and you don’t b e lie v e in v ir tu e ; th a t’s what to r tu r es you and makes you fin angry, th a t’s why you are so v in d ic t iv e .” Ivan needs deeply to s u ffe r ; but lik e the o th er s, he j does not b e lie v e in the c r o ss. A fter he has fa lle n in to a I ' ' ! fe v e r , Alyosha comments: ; i God, in W hom he d isb e lie v e d , and His tru th were gaining) m astery over h is h eart, which s t i l l refused to subm it. ! . . . God w ill conquer! . . . He w i l l e ith e r r is e up inj the lig h t o f tr u th , or . . . h e ’l l p erish in h ate, revenging on h im self and on every one h is having served the cause he does not b e lie v e in . . . Ivan r e a liz e s th at h is id ea s have been vu lgarized 1 and put to the t e s t by h is bastard brother, Smerdyakov, to j ^ • , whom he had preached upon h is a r r iv a l. The consequences i shock him in to a lo s s o f fa ith in h is whole ra tio n a l p o si- ; tio n . T his, the knowledge th at he i s m orally g u ilty o f h is fa th e r ’s murder, and h is fa ilu r e to replace th e lo s t id eas w ith f a it h , are more than h is system can bear. H e i s driven in to a n e a r -fa ta l brain fe v e r . S U M M A R Y The acceptance o f e v i l and su ffer in g and the sur render o f the in t e l l e c t to t o t a l f a it h , Dostoevsky 65 Ibid.. p. 693. 64 I M d .. p. 694. 132 attempted to dem onstrate, I s th e o n ly means to obtaining tr u th . He held no hope fo r an immediate so lu tio n to the world dilemma—fo r present ju s tic e on earth , s o c ia l e q u a lity , or human happiness from a s o e ia l order based on reason. He preached th at there would never be s o e ia l i eq u a lity u n t il a l l men were b roth ers, str e ssin g in d iv id u a l j i p e r fe c tio n , not group a ctio n . As a j u s tific a t io n o f e v i l, he preached that i t as w ell as good must e x is t fo r man to e x e rcise fr e e w ill in the choice between them. His basic attack on so cia lism and C atholicism was th a t both sought to r e lie v e man o f th is burden o f freedom o f ch o ice. For the problems o f g u i lt , crim e, and punishment, he attempted to show th at the g u ilt o f one man i s the g u ilt o f a l l ; since the h earts o f a l l men contain both good and e v i l , man must be resp on sib le fo r a l l s in , and seek to d isso lv e e v il in s e lf le s s n e s s , a c tiv e lo v e , and su ffe r in g . To the great sin n er, he held out the hope th at no crime was too great fo r the in f in it e love o f God; and th a t by su ffe r in g , the sin n er earned the rig h t to fo rg iv e h im self. Dostoevsky str e sse d th at fa ith was not a r e s u lt o f reasoning, but a p h y sica l d isp o sitio n that has nothing to do w ith in t e lle c t u a l fu n ctio n in g . 65 He charged th a t the 65 Troyat, o|>. cit.« p. 385. 133 in t e lle c t u a ls , by in s is t in g on a ’ ’world o f tw ice two i s fou r," repudiated s e l f - g u i l t , were unable to b e lie v e in God, incapable of lo v e , and too proud to accept su ffe r in g . This could only lead to ehaos and ’’cannibalism . ” SUFFERING A great many o f D ostoevsky’s characters b elieved th a t they must pay fo r th e ir happiness, as w e ll as th e ir s in s , and be p u r ifie d by su ffe r in g . In the notebook for Grime and Punishment he wrote: There i s no happiness in comfort; happiness i s brought by su ffe r in g . Man i s not born fo r happiness. M an earns h is happiness and always by su ffe r in g . Here there i s no in .ju stic e . . . . By su ffe r in g , such i s the law o f our p la n e t. But t h is immediate con sciou sn ess, f e l t in the process o f liv in g , i s such a great joy, fo r which one may pay by years o f s u ffe r in g .6® In comments on the sto ry H V lassw in The Diary o f a W riter he wrote: I b e lie v e th a t the most deeply rooted s p ir itu a l need o f the Russian people i s the need o f su ffe r in g , o f a constant and unquenchable su ffer in g at a l l tim es and in a l l p la c e s. From tim e immemorial, i t seems, i t has been in fe c te d by t h is need o f su ffe r in g . . . . The Russian people ta s te a kind o f sensual d elig h t in su f fe r in g .6^ In D ostolevsk i ”Le Gounable” (Dostoevsky "the G u ilty p. 87. 66 G ited by Simmons, © j>. c i t . . p. 150. 67 F. M . Dostoevsky, Le Journal d ’un E criv a in . 154 One”) Dominique Arban attempted to show th a t t h is apology fo r su ffe r in g , the in sis te n c e on u n iv ersa l r e s p o n s ib ility fo r g u ilt , and h is r e lig io n o f h u m ility, resu lted from D ostoevsky's own o b sessiv e fe e lin g o f g u ilt . By comparing the Dostoevskian characters and th e ir c o n f lic t s w ith the personal drama o f th e ir crea to r, Arban disengaged certa in j f con stan ts—im ages, o b sessio n a l themes, ch aracters, prob lem s, s itu a tio n s ( e . g . , the r e la tio n between th e murder o f old Karamazov, which Ivan wished and in sp ire d , and D ostoevsky's a ttitu d e toward h is own fa th e r , whom he feared and hated) . 68 Again and again, two crim es, p arricid e and | the rape o f a c h ild , were committed and exp iated ; or, more im portantly, were not committed and exp iated n e v e r th e le ss. Arban concluded th at in a l l o f h is work, as in h is l i f e , Dostoevsky, haunted by the f e e lin g o f g u ilt fo r th ese two crim es, p o ssib ly imaginary, never ceased to liv e in a sta te o f s e lf-a c c u s a tio n . He nourished t h is remorse, seeming to obtain a sen su al pleasure from i t . In th e t r i a l o f h is conscience he was the accuser and th e accused. The pro je c tio n o f h is "crimes" in to h is work was, fo r Dostoevsky, go a process o f d eliveran ce. 68 Qf' Sigmund Freud, "Dostoevski and P a rricid e," tra n s. D. F. T a ft, The R e a list (London), I (1929), 18-33. 69 Dominique Arban, D ostoievsk i "Le Goupable" (P a ris, 1953), pp. 267-268. CHAPTER VII S U M M A R Y A N D CO N C LU SIO NS Kafka explored the b a sis o f r e a lit y and r a tio n a lity , o f human r e s p o n s ib ility and consequential g u ilt . He in s is te d on the lim its o f human p ercep tion , the f u t i l i t y o f human knowledge, and man's lo s s o f the knowledge o f sin . He used a mythopoeic term inology drawn from ordinary l i f e i to d escribe th a t which la y beyond em pirical evid en ce. H e exposed an ir r a tio n a l world, th e laws o f which man could not understand; a world in whieh the conventional concep tio n s o f m orality were su perflu ous. His heroes found them- ; s e lv e s resp on sib le not o n ly fo r w illed e v i l , but fo r secret d e sir e s and gratu itou s m isfortu n es. Kafka gave a p sy ch o lo g ica l tr a n sla tio n to the un co n d itio n a l and hidden g u ilt in the human conscience through a c r it ic a l exam ination o f in te n tio n s , exposing t h is g u ilt in apparently innocent a c tio n s. The lack o f any con s is te n t point o f view from which to judge between good and e v il in human actio n forced upon Kafka's ch aracters a con tin u a l sense o f remorse. His heroes were compelled to seek the tru th w hile combating not on ly s o c ia l tr a d itio n and an ir r a tio n a l u n iverse, but the confusion derived from a com plicated 136 in t e llig e n c e ; an in te llig e n c e which, assuming a l l the fu n ction s o f a crim inal p rocess, forced them to pursue th e ir t r i a l s . The m anifold g u ilt o f Kafka’s heroes resu lted from the lim its o f human perception and knowledge. Lacking a co n siste n t p oint o f view from which to judge between good I and e v il , they su ffered con tin ual remorse. Their various exp ression s o f g u ilt were unconditional and hidden g u ilt in the human co n scien ce; fa ilu r e to f u l f i l l th e ir committed goals and being overwhelmed by th e ir d estin y ; resp on si b i l i t y fo r se c r e t d e sir e s and g ra tu ito u s m isfortunes; re b e llio n again st s o c ia l tr a d itio n , and the seed o f tr a d itio n embedded w ith in . F in a lly , compelled to search for tr u th , I * ! the heroes su ffe r g u ilt fo r the resu lta n t pessimism. Dostoevsky a lso pointed to the e x iste n c e o f laws beyond reason, fo r which man was n ev er th eless h eld answer- a b le, These were laws o f God, which were revealed to man as subconscious tr u th s th at dwelt in the human so u l. He en visioned a tormented w orld, based on a lo g ic beyond human understanding. Judgment for conduct had fo r i t s b a sis the "truth o f God" and "laws o f human n atu re," and a man’s awareness o f g u ilt a rriv es from t h is . He pointed out the in co n sisten cy in human p erso n a lity and em otion. And lik e Kafka, he c r i t i c a l l y examined the p u rity o f in te n tio n s o f 137 both th e in d iv id u a l and s o c ie ty as a group in order to ex pose hidden g u ilt . And through ex p ia tio n w ithout crim e, he suggested r e s p o n s ib ility fo r sec ret d e sir e s. Like Kafka, he showed th at a ra tio n a l exp loration o f i ex iste n c e was f u t i l e . But w h ile reason caused D ostoevsky's j in t e lle c t u a ls to repudiate s e l f - g u i l t and to deny s u ffe r - j in g , the search fo r tr u th by Kafka’s in t e lle c t u a ls le d them not to e v i l , only to f u t i l i t y , an in creasin g awareness o f g u ilt , and fu rth er acceptance of su ffe r in g . Dostoevsky explained th e ir r a tio n a l and h o rrib le by means o f Theodicy. Kafka presented a Job without God. BIBLIOGRAPHY I . W O R K S BY F R A N Z K A F K A A. IN G E R M A N Gesammelte S e h r ifte n . 6 v o ls . Edited by Max Brod. B erlin: Schocken V erlag, 1955 (V ols. I-I V ). Prague: Verlag H einrich Mercy Sohn, 1936-1957 (V ols. V and V I). New York: Schocken Books, I n c ., 1947- (6 v o l s .) . Erzahlungen und k lein e Prosa, V ol. I . B erlin : Schocken V erlag, 1935. 280 pp. Amerika. V ol. I I . B erlin : Schocken V erlag, 1935. 315 pp. Per P rozess. V ol. I I I . B erlin : Schocken V erlag, 1935. 286 pp. Pas S e h lo ss. Vol. IV. B erlin : Schocken V erlag, 1935. 425 pp. Beschreibung e in es Kampfe s . N ovellen . S k izzen . Aphorismen aus dem N aohlass. V ol. V. New York: Schocken Books, In c. , 1946“ ; 336 pp. Tagebdcher und B r ie fe . Vol. VI. New York: Schocken Books, I n c ., 1947. 734 pp. B. TRANSLATIO NS INTO ENGLISH Amerika. Trans. Edwin Muir; Preface by Klaus Mann; A fter word by Max Brod; second e d itio n ; New York: New D irec tio n s , 1946. 277 pp. The G a stle . Trans. Edwin and W illa Muir; Introduction by Thomas Mann; A dditional Note by Max Brod; Introductory Note by Edwin Muir; New York: A lfred A. Knopf, I n c ., 1947. 330 pp. The D ia ries o f Franz Kafka. 1910-1915. V ol. I . Ed* Max Brod, tr a n s. Joseph Kresh; New York: Schocken Books, I n c ., 1948. 345 pp. 140 The D ia ries o f Franz Kafka. 1914-1925. V ol. I I . Id . Max Brod, tr a n s. Martin Greenberg, w ith the co-operation o f Hannah Arendt; New York: Schocken Books, I n o ., 1949. 343 pp. The Great Wall o f China. S to r ie s and R e fle c tio n s. Trans. W illa and Edwin Muir; Introductory Note by Edwin Muir; E x eg etlca l Notes by P h ilip Rahv; New York: Schoeken Books, I n c ., 1946. 515 pp. i L etters to M ilena. Ed. W illi Haas; tr a n s. Tania and (Tames j Stern; London: Seeker and Warburg, L td ., 193©-. 238 pp. i P arab les. in German and E n g lish . Trans. W illa and Edwin Muir, and Clement Greenberg; New York: Schocken Books, I n c ., 1947. 127 pp. The Penal Colony. S to r ie s and Short P ie c e s . Trans. W illa and Edwin Muir; New York: Schocken Books, I n c ., 1948. 320 pp. The T r ia l. Trans. W illa and Edwin Muir; Epilogue by Max Brod; New York: A lfred A. Knopf, I n c ., 1951. 297 pp. j I I . A B O U T FR A N Z K A FK A A. B O O K S Brod, Max, Franz Kafka. ein e B iographie. Erinnerungen und Dokumente. Prague: H einrich Mercy Sohn, 1935. 287 pp. _______ , Franz Kafka. A Biography. Trans. G. Humphreys Roberts; New York: Schocken Books, I n c ., 1947. 236 pp. E isn er, P avel, Franz Kafka and Prague. Trans. Lowry Nelson and Rene W ellek; New York: A rts, I n c ., 1951. 100 pp. F lo res, Angel, Franz Kafka, A Chronology and B ibliography. Houlton, Maine: Bern P orter, 1944. 19 pp. _______ , e d ., The Kafka Problem. New York: New D ir e c tio n s, 1946. 468 pp. Goodman, Paul, Kafka*s Prayer. New York: The Vanguard P ress, I n c ., 1947. 265 pp. 141 Janouoh, Gustav, C onversations w ith Kafka. Notes and R em iniscences. Trans. Goronwy Rees; In i reduction by Max Brod; London: Derek V erschoyle, L td ., 1953. 109 pp. N eider, C harles, The Frozen S ea : a Study o f fran?, Kafka. New York: Oxford U n iv ersity P ress, 1948. 195 pp. Norman, Dorothy S ., e d ., A Franz Kafka M iscella n y . Revised and enlarged second e d itio n ; New York: Twice a Year ' P ress, 1946. ISO pp. i Tauber, H erbert, Franz Kafka, ein e Deutung sein er Werke. Zurich-New York: Oprecht V erlag, 1941. 237 pp. _______ , Franz Kafka: An In terp reta tio n o f His Work. Trans. G. Humphreys Roberts and Roger Senhouse; New Haven, C onnecticut: Yale U n iversity P ress, 1948. 252 pp. B. ARTICLES i ! i B ergel, Lienhard, "M ax Brod and Herbert Tauber," The Kafka I Problem. Angel F lo res, e d .; New York: New D irectio n s, ! 1946. Pp. 391-397. Camus, A lb ert, "Hope and A bsurdity," tr a n s. W illiam B arrett, The Kafka Problem. Angel F lo res, e d .; New York: New D ir e c tio n s, 1946. Pp. 251-261. Daniel-Rops (pseud. o f J. C. Henri P e t o lt ) , "The C astle o f D espair," tra n s. M uriel K it t e l, The Kafka Problem. New York: New D ir e c tio n s, 1946. tp . 184-191. Hoffman, Frederick John, "Kafka and Mann," Freudian!sm and the L iterary Mind. Baton Rouge, L ouisiana: L ouisiana S ta te U n iv ersity P ress, 1945. Pp. 181-210. Reprinted as "Escape from Father," The Kafka Problem. Angel F lo res, e d .; New York: New D irectio n s, 1946. Pp. 214- 246. K elly , John, "Franz Kafka*s T ria l and the Theology o f C r is is ." Southern Review (Spring. 1940), pp. 749-766. Reprinted in The Kafka Problem. Angel F lo res, ed .; New York: New D ire ctio n s, 1946. Pp. 151-171. 142 Magny, Claude-Edmonde, "The O bjective D ep iction o f Ab s u r d i t y , Q uarterly Review o f L ite r a tu r e . I I (Mo. 3, 1945), 211-227. Reprinted in The Kafka Problem. Angel F lo res, e d .j M ew York: M ew D ir e c tio n s, 1946. Fp. 75- 96. Meider, C harles, "The C a b a lis ts ." The Kafka Problem. Angel F lo res, e d .; M ew York: M ew D ir e c tio n s, 1946. Pp. 398- 445. i Samuel, Richard, and R. Hinton Thomas, Expressionism in j German L ife . L iteratu re and the Theatre (1910- 1924T. Cambridge, England: W . H effer and Sons, L td ., 1939. Pp. 139-144. Sarraute, N a th a lie, "De D ostoievsk l a K afka,” Les Temps Modernss. I I (Qctobre, 1947), 664-685. S artre, Jean-Paul, "Aminadab ou du fan ta stiq u e consid£r& oomme un lan gu age.” S itu a tio n s I . P aris: L ib ra irie Gallimard, 1947. Pp. 122-142. Steinhauer, Harry, e d ., Die Deutsche M ovelie. 1880- 1933. j M ew York: W . W . Morton and Company, I n c ., 1936. i Pp. 190-205. | Thomas, R. Hinton, "Franz Kafka and th e R eligiou s Aspect o f E xpressionism ,” German L ife and L e tte r s . I I (O ctober, 1937), 42-49. U r z id il, John, "Personal Motes on Franz K afka,” L ife and L etters Today. XLII (September, 1944), 131-146. Reprinted as " R ecollection s," The Kafka Problem. Angel F lo res, e d .; M ew York: M ew D ir e c tio n s, 1946. Pp. 20- 24. V ie tta , Egon (pseud, o f Egon F r itz ), "The Fundamental R evolution," tr a n s. Lienhard B ergel and F. Wood, The Kafka Problem. Angel F lo res, e d .; M ew York: M ew D ir e c tio n s, 1946. Pp. 337-347. Y ivas, E lis e o , "Kafka*s D istorted Mask," The Kenyon Review. X (W inter, 1948), 51-70. 143 I I I . W O R K S BY F Y O D O R D O ST O EV SK Y A. TRANSLATIONS INTO ENGLISH The Novela o f Fyodor D ostoevsky. Trans. Constance G arnett, 12 v o ls . London: W illiam Hainemann, L td ., 1912-1920. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1912-1920. The Brothers Karamazov. V ol. I , 1912. 858 pp. The I d io t . Vol. I I , 1913. 620 pp. Crime and Punishment. Vol. I l l , 1914. 493 pp. The P o ssessed . Vol. IV, 1914. 637 pp. The House o f the Dead. V ol. V, 1915. 284 pp. The In su lted and In ju red . Vol. VI, 1915. 345 pp. A ^aw Youth. Vol. V II, 1916. 560 pp. The E ternal Husband. and Other S t o r ie s . V ol. V III, 1917. 523 pp. The Gambler and Other S t o r ie s . V ol. IK, 1917. 312 pp. White N ights and Other S t o r ie s . V ol. X, 1918. 283 pp. An Honest T hief and Other S t o r ie s . V ol. XL, 1919. 325 pp. The Friend o f the Fam ily: o r . Stepanchikovo and i t s In h ab itan ts . and Another S to ry . Vol. X II, 1920. 361 pp. B. O T H E R ENGLISH EDITIONS CITED The Brothers Karamazov. Trans. Constance Garnett; New York: The Modern Library, I n c ., 1929. 822 pp. Crime and Punishment. Trans. David Magarshack; Harmondsworth, M iddlesex: Penguin Books, L td ., 1951. 559 pp. 144 The M ary o f a W riter. 2 v o ls; tr a n s. and ed. B oris Brazol; New York: Charles S crib n er’s Sons, 1949. 1097 pp. The P ossessed . Trans. Constance Garnett; Foreword and a tr a n sla tio n o f the h ith erto supressed Chapter "At Tihon’s," by Avrahm Yarmolinsky; New York: The Modern i Library, I n c ., 1936. 736 pp. I The Short Novels o f D ostoevsky. Trans. Constance Garnett; j In troduction by Thomas Mann; New York: The D ial P ress, j I n c ., 1945. 811 pp. I The Short S to r ie s o f D ostoevsky. Ed. w ith an Introduction by W illiam P h illip s ; tr a n s. Constance Garnett; New York: The D ial P ress, I n c ., 1946. 614 pp. C. TRANSLATIONS INTO FR E N C H Correspondanee In te g r a ls de D o sto iev sk i. T ra n s., In tro duction, and Notes by Dominique Arban. The f i r s t unexpurgated tr a n sla tio n conforming to the Russian t e x t . 3 v o ls . P aris: Calmann-Levy, E diteur, 1949- Correspondanee de D o sto ie v sk i. V ol. I . P aris: Calmann- Levy, E diteur, 1949. 324 pp. (V ols. II and I I I to f o llo w .) L’E ternal Mari. Trans. B oris de Sehloezer; P aris: L ib ra irie Gallimard, 1948. 215 pp. Journal D’Un E crivain . Trans. Jean C h u zev ille; P aris: L ib ra irie Gallimard, 1938. 608 pp. IV. A B O U T F Y O D O R D O ST O E V SK Y Arban, Dominique, D ostoievsk i ’’Le G o unable. " Preface by B oris de S ehloezer; P aris: E d ition s Rend J u llia r d , 1953. 272 pp. Carr, Edward H a lle tt, D ostoyevsky. A New Biography. Boston: Houghton M ifflin Company, 1931. 331 pp. 145 E ck stein , F r ., and Ren4 F ulop-M iller, D ostoievsk i a la R o u lette. Trans, from German by Helene Legros; P aris: L ib ra irie Gallimard, 1926. 254 pp. Payer, Misha Harry, G ide. Freedom, and D ostoevsky. B urlington, Yermont: Lane P ress, 1946. 159 pp. Freud, Sigmund, "Dostoevsky and P a rricid e," tr a n s. D. F. T aft, The R e a list (London), I (P t. 2 , 1929), 18-33. Reprinted in Stavrogin * s C on fession , by Fyodor Dostoevsky; tr a n s. Y irgin ia Woolf and S. S. K oteliansky; w ith a psychoanalytic study o f the author by Sigmund Freud; M ew York: Lear P u b lish ers, 1947. 136 pp. Gide, AndrA, D ostoievsky ( a r t ic le s e t c a u se r ie s) . P aris: Plon-N ourrit e t C ie ., 1923. 243 pp. Guardini, Romano, LfUnivers R elig ieu x de D o sto ie v sk i. Trans, from the German by Henri Engelmann and Robert i Givord; P aris: E d ition s du S e u il, 1947. 308 pp. Lavrin, Janko, D ostoevsky, a Study. New York: The ! Macmillan Company, 1947. 161 pp. ! Lloyd, John Arthur Thomas, Fyodor D ostoevsky. Revised j e d itio n ; M ew York: Charles S crib n er’s Sons, 1947. 324 pp. Muehnie, H elen, D ostoevsky’s E nglish Reputation (1881- 1956) . Smith C ollege S tu d ies in Modern Language, V ol. XX, Mos. 3 and 4 (A pril and J u ly ). Northampton, M assachusetts: Department o f Modern Language o f Smith C ollege, 1939. 219 pp. Simmons, Ernest J ., D ostoevsk i. the Making o f a N o v e lis t. New York: Oxford U n iversity P ress, 1940. 416 pp. Stock er, Dr. A ., A rn e R usse. Realisms psyohologiaue des Freres Karamazov. GenSve: E d ition s du M ont-Blanc, 1945. 156 pp. Thurneysen, Edouard, D ostoievsk i ou l e s Confins de 1 ’Homme. Trans, from German by P. Maury; P aris: E d ition s "Je S e r a ,” 1934. 204 pp. 146 Troyat, Henry, Firebrand« th e L ife o f D ostoevsky. Trans. Herbert G-uterman; M ew York: Roy~T?ublishers, 1946. 438 pp. Yarmolinsky, Avrahm, D ostoevsky, a L ife . M ew York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1934. 477 pp. Zander, L.-A., D ostoievsky. Le Problfeme du B ien . Trans, from Russian by R. Hofmann; P aris: E d ition s CorrSa e t Cie., 1946. 179 pp. V. O T H E R M A TER IA L CITED Kierkegaard, Soren Aabye. Fear and Trembling; a D ia le c tic a l L y ric. T ran s., In trod u ction , and Motes by W alter Lowrie; P rin ceton, M ew Jersey: Princeton U n iv ersity P ress, 1941. 208 pp. K b estler, Arthur, "The I n t e ll i g e n t s i a ,” L it t le Reviews Anthology 1945. Ed. Denys Val Baker; London: Eyre and Spottisw oode, L td ., 1945. Pp. 109-121. T r illin g , L io n el, " L ittle D o r r it.” The Kenyon Review. X V (Autumn, 1953), 577-590. o f S o u th e r n Ca»,fornta
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Hubble, Thomas Newman
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A study of the manifestation of guilt in the work of Kafka and Dostoevsky
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texts
Source
University of Southern California
(contributing entity),
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
(collection)
Access Conditions
The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...
Repository Name
University of Southern California Digital Library
Repository Location
USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA
Tags
comparative literature
Literature, Germanic
Literature, Slavic and East European